Let It Go
by IMTheresa
Summary: Each on his own for a few days, Sam and Dean battle their inner demons.
1. Chapter 1

**Let it Go **

**Chapter 1 **

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them, but I would love to see them in a third season!

**A/N**: If you're looking for a story with a lot of mystery and twists like I normally write, don't read this one. If you want to explore both Sam and Dean's inner demons and follow them through an emotional journey, then by all means, give this one a shot. I'll warn you right up front that there isn't really a gig in this story and Kristine plays a major role. She, too, has her demons to battle. I first introduced her in _Breakdown_ and _The Hunt_, but you'll learn much more about her here and get a little more insight into why Dean likes her.

I couldn't have written this without Susan's help. She's great to bounce ideas of off and her insights as a therapist are invaluable. Her encouragement is truly intoxicating! I also want to thank Kelli who has been in my corner for over a decade. We met on the 'Net and a better friend couldn't be found.

This is a bit different than anything I've written before and I'm really curious about what you'll think. By all means, review!!!

oooOOOooo

Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero - Marc Brown

oooOOOooo

Dean Winchester had a six pack of beer in one hand and a bag of junk food in the other as he somehow managed to get the motel room door opened. His younger brother was lounging on his bed, ready to watch a pay per view movie when he'd left half an hour ago, but now he was sleeping with his arms wrapped around his pillow.

Sam wasn't getting much sleep these days; not since forcing himself to kill Madison. He had finally moved past Jessica's death and had found a woman he felt enough of a connection with to sleep with her, but nothing was ever easy for the Winchesters. In the cruelest twist of fate, she had been turned into a werewolf only a month before meeting Sam. She thought the attack was an average mugging and had no idea that she'd been turned into a monster. Once she understood, she realized she had to be killed. She didn't want to hurt anyone else and she asked that Sam to be the one to kill her.

Dean would have done it for him, he offered to do it, but Sam insisted. And now, just like after Jessica died, there were nightmares. Any progress Sam had made was reversed when he was forced to pull the trigger just a few weeks ago.

Sitting on the edge of his own bed, Dean watched his brother. Things had just started to improve for them when Madison came along; the pain of their father's death was fading and they'd begun to deal with the secret he left them with. Not perfect, their relationship was, nonetheless, strong and they trusted each other implicitly.

Sam shifted and moaned quietly. Dean wanted to smooth his hair and whisper that everything was okay, but he knew that it wasn't. Nothing was okay and he wasn't sure it ever would be again. He was worried about his brother and now it wasn't just because of the secret their father shared just before he died. Now Dean was afraid the guilt he knew Sam felt would overwhelm him. The loss of Jessica nearly destroyed Sam and Dean wasn't sure he would be able to survive this.

Sam always felt each loss was a failure, but after finding out that their father thought he might turn evil, he was intent on saving as many people as he could. He'd gotten it into his head that the more people he rescued, the more chance he had of changing his destiny. Dean knew that Sam felt he should have been able to save Madison and for him to be the one to kill her….

Sighing, Dean got up and put the beer into the small refrigerator, then flipped off the television before going into the bathroom. Sam was writhing and talking in his sleep when Dean came back into the room. Before he could react, Sam bolted up, calling his brother's name.

"Right here," Dean said quickly as he sat on the edge of his own bed.

Sam glanced at him for reassurance and then looked away, running a hand through his hair.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Sam –"

"Don't," he said looking back at his brother pleadingly. "Just don't."

"Fine." Dean settled back in his own bed, trying to appear unconcerned while keeping an eye on Sam. Dean knew that Sam needed time to process things on his own; he would come to him when he was ready to talk.

"You feel like watching that movie?" Sam asked quietly.

"Yeah, sure. The stuff I got is on the table; beer's in the fridge."

"Sorry I fell asleep on you," Sam said as he padded across the room.

"It's okay," Dean called as Sam walked into the bathroom.

Sam closed the bathroom door, almost missing his brother's words. He knew Dean was worried; he remembered what it was like when they first reunited and he was plagued with nightmares. Dean was as supportive as he knew how to be, but Sam was resistant and ended up in a very bad place. At least this time the dreams weren't as frequent or as vivid. He didn't like that he sometimes dreamed of Jessica's death again, but considering what happened with Madison, it made a strange kind of sense.

He wasn't really ready to talk to Dean about the dreams, and there was really nothing to say anyway. There was something else he needed to bring up though, but had been putting off because he knew Dean wouldn't like it.

Sam left the bathroom a few minutes later and stopped at the refrigerator. He opted for a soft drink instead of a beer, but grabbed one for Dean. Settled with the junk food split between them, Dean turned on the movie. When it was over, Sam considered bringing up what he had to tell him, but it was getting late and he decided the morning would be soon enough.

The brothers had no place they needed to be, so they had decided to spend a few days in Tulsa. They'd been in a nearby town working a job, but once they were done, it was clear Sam needed to take some time off. He carried his weight, but his heart wasn't in it and every decision seemed like torture. After finishing the job, they went to the next city where they could be anonymous and Sam could get his head together.

That had been almost a week ago and Dean was getting anxious to move on. It was never a good idea to stay anywhere for very long, especially now that they were wanted by the law. He didn't mind taking more time off, but he wanted to leave Tulsa. He planned to bring it up after breakfast that morning, but Sam had his own agenda.

"Hey, Dean?" He began after they finished breakfast in a diner near the motel.

"Yeah?" the older hunter glanced at him as he took a sip from a large coffee cup.

Sam knew Dean wouldn't like what he had to say and considered having the conversation in private, but decided that maybe his brother would be more cooperative if they weren't alone. He took a deep breath before beginning and his eyes didn't leave the table.

"I – uh – I want to go to California."

"Okay. Why?"

"I've been keeping in touch with Rebecca; just an email here and there. She went back to school after we helped her brother in St. Louis –"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I remember you told me that."

"She's graduating and asked me to come. I figured with what happened with – with Madison- and the dreams starting again…"

"Sam, if you want to go, we'll go."

Finally, he looked at his brother. "That's the thing. I, uh, I want to go alone."

He saw a flash of pain in Dean's eyes just before he put the mask in place. "Oh."

Sam continued quickly. "It's just – I need some time away from the hunt. Completely away."

"And that includes being away from me?"

"Yes. No," Sam looked at him. "No, not from _you_. But I need some time alone."

Dean nodded stiffly, staring at his coffee. "For how long?"

"A week? Two? The graduation is next weekend and I want to spend some time with Rebecca and just – I don't know. I want to hang out with people I went to school with for a while. Please try to understand."

"It's fine, Sam. When do you want to leave? I can drive you –"

"I have a bus ticket for tomorrow."

Dean looked at him, surprised, then busied himself with his coffee.

"Dean –" Sam stopped when the waitress stopped at the table with their bill. Once she was gone, he looked back to his brother. "Come on, man. It's just for a few days. It's not like I'm leaving for good."

"It's fine," Dean said again, concentrating on the coffee.

Frustrated and afraid he'd hurt his brother, Sam grabbed Dean's wrist. He glared at Sam, his eyes flashing in anger.

"Don't do that," Sam said, releasing Dean's wrist. "Don't shut me out."

Dean calmly folded his hands in front of him and looked at Sam. "Fine, Sam. You want to go back to California? Go. You want to take a bus? Even better. Good for you. What do you want from me?"

Sam was hurt, but he knew Dean hadn't meant what he said in anger. His leaving for college was a sore spot between them; it was something that wounded Dean and he still refused to talk about it. Sam had no intention of staying in Palo Alto, though he knew if he did return to school at some point, Dean would support him. But he also knew that Dean hated to be alone, which is one reason Sam had put off telling him what he was planning.

"I'm coming back, Dean." Sam looked into his brother's eyes. "I just need a few days to myself and I want to see some old friends."

"How long have you been planning this?" Dean asked quietly.

"Not long," Sam answered truthfully. "I've been afraid to tell you."

Dean seemed to shrink in front of him, making Sam feel worse than he already did.

"I don't want you to be afraid to talk to me," Dean almost whispered.

The honesty surprised Sam. It wasn't that Dean frequently lied to him, but he was convinced that his brother wouldn't let him behind the walls he'd built over the years if he hadn't been there when some of them went up.

"I wasn't afraid to talk to you," Sam countered. "I was afraid to hurt you. As much as I need this, I didn't want to –"

Dean held up a hand. "It's okay. Let's get out of here."

Sam watched as Dean grabbed the bill and walked to the cash register near the front of the café. He hesitated a moment, then followed him outside.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, catching up to his brother. "Wait!"

His brother got to the Impala and turned around to face him. "I said it was okay, Sam."

"I can see the look in your eyes, man. You may say it's okay, but I can see that it isn't. Dean, I swear to you that I'm coming back."

"I know you are."

"I know you don't like being alone, but –"

"That isn't it, either."

Sam looked at him, confused. "I don't understand."

Dean leaned against the driver's side door and looked away, trying to organize his thoughts.

"I'm worried about you," he said quietly.

"You're afraid if I go off on my own, I'll go dark side," Sam said sadly.

"I've told you before, Sam, you're not going to turn evil."

"Well… I can take care of myself for a couple of weeks."

"I know that. But –"

"But what, Dean?"

"What about the dreams? What if you have one on the bus? It's got to be a two day trip out to California. And once you get there? I've seen how they affect you; I've sat up with you for half the night after you've had one –"

"I know you have and I appreciate it. Some days –" Sam looked away for a moment. When he turned back to Dean, he had tears in his eyes. "Some days I don't know what I'd do without my big brother. But, Dean, I need to do this."

"I know ya do," Dean sighed. "You'll call?"

"Of course. You, too."

"Sure." Dean pushed away from the car. "You need anything before you go?"

Sam shook his head and grinned. "No. But you're going to need shampoo and toothpaste."

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked the next morning as they both packed.

Dean shrugged. "I'm not sure. I'll probably look for a gig."

Sam looked at him sharply. He knew his brother had a tendency to be reckless and he didn't like the idea of him on a hunt alone.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I'm not going to sit around for a couple of weeks. I'll stick to simple hauntings or something."

Sam didn't feel any better. "Just be careful. And if you're going to be hunting, I want to talk to you every day. I want a scheduled call so if something happens –"

"Sam –"

"I mean it."

Dean sighed, pretending to be irritated even though he was actually relieved.

Neither one felt like breakfast, so after making a stop for coffee, the brothers headed to the bus station. Dean was quiet and Sam could see his jaw was set. He didn't try to lighten the mood; Sam knew it wouldn't work and didn't want to make things worse. He knew he was doing the right thing for himself, but still worried for his brother.

Dean had once called him selfish, and Sam thought that might be true, but he also realized that if he didn't take care of himself he would be of no use to anyone. Dean hadn't recognized that yet and Sam was afraid that one day his brother would crack in a way that no one could fix.

They sat in the car for several minutes after Dean parked in front of the bus station.

Finally, Sam sighed. "This isn't like last time, Dean."

The muscle in Dean's jaw worked as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "I know, but it feels like it."

"You'll come to pick me up in a couple of weeks?"

Dean nodded, still staring out of the windshield.

"You know, I was thinking," Sam began cautiously.

"What about?"

"Maybe you should head to North Carolina."

Sam saw Dean's eyes dart toward him for a moment. "Maybe."

"I can take a bus from Palo Alto to meet you there –"

"We'll talk about that later. I don't even know that's what I'll do."

"Okay." Sam looked toward the bus station. "I should go."

"Do you want me to come inside with you?"

"I think that might be harder."

Dean nodded. He hesitated a moment, then turned to his brother. "I do understand why you have to do this."

"Thanks." Sam got out of the car and pulled his duffle bag from the back seat. "Stay out of trouble."

Dean smiled and Sam was pretty sure it was genuine. "Why start now?"

Sam tapped the car door. "I'll call you later."

Dean nodded and called Sam's name as he turned away.

"I hope you find what you're looking for."

Sam was surprised by his brother's words. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean watched as Sam walked away. He waited until the door closed behind him before starting the engine and backing out of the parking spot. He had no idea where he was headed, but he chose a generally eastern direction which would take him to North Carolina, if that's where he decided to go.

oooOOOooo

Soon after Sam left for Stanford originally, Dean and John handled a job in Tennessee and were on their way to South Carolina where there were rumors of a potential gig. They were sticking to the back roads, not in any particular hurry because Dean had taken a bit of a beating and was in need of a few days of rest before getting back to work.

They came across a woman stranded on the side of the road outside of a small town in North Carolina and stopped to offer assistance. John was able to get her car started and they followed her to the garage in town. She insisted on buying them dinner for helping her and, to Dean's surprise, John accepted.

Julia Ryan took them to the bar and grill that she owned and where her daughter, Kristine, was a bartender and pseudo assistant manager while attending classes at the university in nearby Asheville. She wasn't the usual leggy blonde that attracted Dean, but she was pretty, had a great smile and could shoot almost as much tequila as he could. He felt strangely comfortable with her from the beginning.

As they talked one night, Dean and Kristine somehow discovered a connection between their families. Her sister and nephew were killed by the same thing that was responsible for his mother's death and, like his father, her brother-in-law became a hunter. Once they realized their lives were linked via the yellow-eyed demon, they knew they could talk freely with one another.

John recognized the attraction his son had for Kristine and talked him into staying around for a few days while he went off to investigate another job. It surprised Dean, but he was glad to have a little more time to spend with her. It wasn't long after he left to help his father and their friend, Caleb, with a hunt that the demon attacked again. This time it went after Kristine's mother and her brother-in-law was injured trying to save her. He was sentenced to life in a wheelchair.

Over the next couple of years, Dean spent time with Kristine every chance he got. After John disappeared and he reconciled with Sam, it was Kristine and Patrick who helped end the nightmares Sam was having about Jessica's death. Kristine changed her business major to psychology after her mother's death and in addition to her work in an Asheville clinic, she turned her mother's estate into a safe house for hunters. They came to rest and heal from physical, as well as mental, injuries.

Kristine's life was interrupted once again when Patrick was possessed by a demon. Even though she used every covert trick she knew to hide from him, Patrick found her and was made to torture her. She survived only because Sam and Dean found her in time. While possessed, Patrick's body had been forced to do things it was no longer physically able to do and he was not able to survive the damage.

oooOOOooo

If Dean had gotten on the interstate, he could have been at Kristine's in less than fourteen hours, but he still wouldn't admit to himself that's where he was going. He meandered, playing classic rock music loud and stayed pointed generally east, ending up in Mountain Home, Arkansas late that afternoon. It was a little early to start drinking, but he saw the bar before he found a restaurant. He wasn't very hungry, but he was thirsty, and figured even the sleaziest bars usually had peanuts.

He wasn't the only customer, but the place was far from full. The floor was scuffed wood, the tables were worn and it looked like the walls hadn't seen a fresh coat of paint in years. He walked past the generally older male customers and sat at the edge of the bar, ordering anything on tap. The bartender set the glass in front of him; Dean almost smiled to himself when he also set a bowl of peanuts within easy reach.

Dean used the mirror behind the bar to watch the room behind him. He saw the young woman walk through the door a few minutes later. She wasn't particularly attractive, but she was trying very hard. He wasn't sure the material she was wearing could be considered a skirt; it barely covered anything. He watched as she approached the bar and slid onto the stool next to him.

"Hey, Mandy," the bartender said as he approached her. "The usual?"

"Yeah, thanks." She turned to Dean and smiled. "You're new here."

"I guess I am."

"Can't imagine what would have brought here," she said as the bartender put a pink drink in front of her.

Dean looked at it with disdain and took a long draw from his beer.

"Are you just passing through?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"How long will you be here?" she swung around on the stool and smiled at him seductively.

"Probably long enough for another beer."

"You could skip the beer."

Dean looked at her.

She smiled again and, as she stood up, she grabbed the collar of his worn leather jacket and pulled him from his stool. He tossed a few bills on the bar before following her outside where she led him to the back of the bar. There were no windows and nothing but trees around them.

"So what's your name?" she asked, leaning back against the wall.

"Dean."

"I'm Mandy."

"I heard."

"So why are you all the way over there?" she asked, resting the bottom of a high-heeled pump on the wall. "We both know what you came out here for."

Dean had spent an entire day by himself. He'd listened to loud music and tried not to think, but without Sam to distract him, he had nothing else to do but think. He felt raw inside. He missed his brother, he missed his father and he was angry about nothing in particular. He always tried so hard to control his emotions, especially around other people. Occasionally he removed the mask when Sam was around, but not very often, and never in front of anyone else. But he'd spent the day alone, worrying about his brother, and he needed a release.

Without thinking, Dean walked toward Mandy. He grabbed her by the shoulders and leaned forward to kiss her roughly. Feeling her respond, he moved his hands down her arms as she began to tug on his belt buckle. Things progressed quickly, but Dean suddenly pulled away from her.

"Hey!" she panted. "What the hell?"

"Sorry," Dean said, feeling sick. "I can't do this."

"What's your problem?" she demanded, gripping his arm.

Dean easily pulled away and headed to his car, buttoning his pants as he walked. He barely heard Mandy's tirade of insults as he struggled not to vomit. He was successful until he'd gone about five miles down the road when he was forced to pull over and empty the sparse contents of his stomach into the grass.

He was sitting back against the car when his cell phone started to ring. He assumed it was Sam and considered not answering it. He wasn't sure he could force himself to sound all right, but he knew not answering would only worry his brother..

"Hello?" He didn't look at the caller ID.

"Hey, Dean."

Dean pulled one knee up to his chest to rest his elbow on as he held the phone to his ear. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. "Hey, how's it going so far?"

"Okay. The bus isn't completely full and I managed a row to myself."

"Good; somewhere to put those long legs of yours."

Sam snorted. "Yeah. Where are you?"

"I don't know exactly."

"Where are you headed?"

"I don't know exactly."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I – uh – I just stopped for something to eat."

"Dean, you don't sound okay. Are you sure –"

"Sam, don't worry, okay? I'm fine. Really. What about you?

"I'm okay. I've been reading, mostly. Staring out the window. Thinking."

Dean felt himself immediately slip into big-brother mode. "Thinking about what?"

" Madison. Jess."

"Sam, don't do that to yourself. You're not responsible for what happened to either one of them."

"How can you say that, Dean? Madison – I – "

"You didn't turn her, Sam. You saved her from being something horrible."

"Maybe. But Dad's journal – was he really so pig-headed to think he was right when so many other hunters –"

Dean was in no mood for this conversation, but anything was better than thinking about what had just happened. "Sam, you've said all your life that Dad was pig-headed."

"Do you think I missed something? Some update or something in the journal?"

"I'm surprised you haven't memorized that journal yet. You didn't miss anything. If Dad thought, or even suspected, something else, you would have found it. Even Bobby said there's no way –"

"I know," Sam sighed.

"I'm sorry you had to do it, Sam. I am. I liked Madison, too. But she asked you to kill her because she didn't want to be a monster and she trusted you. You did her a favor, Sam."

"Maybe."

"Sam –"

"The bus is getting ready to pull out; I gotta go. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm sure. And you're okay, too, Sam. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Yeah. I'll talk to you later."

"Take care of yourself."

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah."

"Go to Kristine's."

"I'll talk to you later."

Sam didn't like the way Dean sounded. He felt guilty for leaving him alone, but going to California was something he needed to do. He left almost two years ago; a couple of weeks after Jessica's funeral. He still kept in touch with some of his friends, but he hadn't been back. He used to think about returning to school often, it was like the light at the end of the tunnel, but school was the furthest thing from his mind these days.

He knew he hadn't loved Madison, but she was the first woman he slept with since Jessica died and that wasn't something Sam took lightly. He wasn't like his brother, who didn't even need to know a woman's name before having sex with her, and his attraction to Madison surprised him.

He slipped his phone into his pocket and reboarded the bus, settling into his seat and letting the soft vibrations lull him into a light sleep. It wasn't as comfortable as the Impala, and he was surprised at how much he actually missed the familiarity of that car, but the rest was still welcome.

Back in the car, Dean found a classic rock station and turned the radio up before getting back onto the road. Finally, too hungry to ignore it any longer, he stopped at a fast food restaurant in Jonesboro, Arkansas. He didn't trust himself to go into another bar and he didn't want to try to figure out what happened in the last one.

After forcing down part of a burger, Dean decided he would stop for the night. At 9:00 it was still relatively early, but he thought a bed and movie would keep his mind off of his brother. Of course, thinking about Sam isn't what he was really trying to avoid. There was a motel across the street with a vacancy sign flashing and he was in a room less than fifteen minutes later. 

He paced for a few minutes, then took a shower. Still restless, he went to the vending machine for a cola, but decided what he really wanted was a beer. Remembering a gas station as he passed the town limits, Dean got into his car. He passed a bar on his way to the station, but drove past it with his jaw set. A six-pack later, he was asleep on top of the bedspread with a movie playing on television.

Sam jerked awake and it took a moment for him to figure out where he was. The remnant of a dream was on the edge of his memory, but he didn't clearly remember anything and he didn't want to think about it. The rest of the passengers seemed to still be asleep and Sam made his way quietly to the on-board restroom.

Back in his seat, he pulled out his cell phone. It was only 5:30, but Dean was probably at least at time zone ahead of him. He wanted to talk to his brother, to be reassured by his voice, but he would have to settle for text messaging if Dean was even awake.

He heard the familiar ringtone and reached for the phone, hoping he'd left it on the bedside table. He barely remembered plugging it into the charger, before his pity party started. His head wasn't exactly pounding, he'd only had six beers after all, but he'd felt better. It took him several moments to realize the call was actually a text message. Grunting, Dean sat up and turned on the light, wincing at the sudden brightness.

_Hey, you awake?_

Dean forced himself into alertness and responded to the message.

_Yes. Okay? _

_Dream. _

Dean sighed. He didn't particularly like text messaging, but Dean understood that was Sam's only option since he was on a bus; especially so early in the morning.

_Sorry. Bad? _

_No. Where are you? _

_Arkansas_

_Hunting? _

_No. _

_NC? _

_Drop it. _

_We should be stopping in a couple of hours. Can I call then? _

_Of course. _

When the phone rang later, Dean checked the caller ID display and, seeing it was Sam, he pulled to the side of the road and killed the engine.

"Hey," he answered, sounding more cheerful than he felt.

"Hey. Did I wake you earlier?"

"No," Dean lied. "Was it the same dream?"

"I don't really remember the dream, just the feeling."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I feel a little stupid though."

"Why?"

"For texting you before. I guess I'm just used to you being right next to me."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Maybe I made a mistake."

"What mistake?"

"Leaving."

"Sam, I'll meet you if you want, but you seemed pretty sure about this yesterday."

He sighed. "I know."

"What changed?"

"Nothing, I guess."

They were quiet for a moment.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"How I reacted when you said you wanted to leave."

"It's okay. Went better than I thought, actually," Sam laughed.

"Nice. So you want me to head your way?"

Sam took a deep breath. "No. Thanks, Dean."

"I got your back, okay?"

"I know you do. So, you okay? You're sounding a little rough."

"I made a pitstop last night before I found a motel."

"Spare me the details."

"Aw, Sam, I'm a gentleman. I don't kiss and tell."

A few new passengers got on the bus, but Sam was still alone in the back row. He pulled out a book and started to read, pointedly ignoring the young woman across from him. She smiled at him and twirled her long blonde hair around one finger. When she leaned forward, Sam turned away from her. He wasn't in the mood for companionship; especially that of a woman.

While pretending to read, Sam thought about the time he spent in Palo Alto. He missed his family, even his father who had issued an ultimatum when Sam announced he was going to school on a full scholarship. The fight was loud and, instead of being proud of his son, John told him if he left he could never come home. Despite the rocky start, Sam excelled at school. At first, he found it hard to make friends, but Rebecca changed that. They were in a study group together and ended up being made partners on a class project. She liked the shy young man that he was then and took him under her wing. Like everyone else though, she had no idea what his life before school had been like.

He'd been on the road with Dean for a few months when he got an email from her saying that her brother, another friend of Sam's, had been charged with the murder of his girlfriend. She and her brother, Zach, were spending a school break at their parents' home and Sam convinced Dean to go to St. Louis to help them. They weren't expecting it to turn into a job.

The murder Zach was accused of had actually been committed by a shapeshifter. When the creature impersonated Dean and attacked Rebecca, she, unfortunately had to learn things about Sam's life he'd wanted to keep from the people at Stanford. She and Zach ended up going back to school, keeping Sam's secret as they promised.

Now, several hours past the nightmare, Sam was again feeling positive about his decision to go to Rebecca's graduation. She'd been a good friend and he was happy for her success. He wanted to help celebrate her accomplishments, but his decision to go wasn't just about his friend. Madison's death brought back a lot of old feelings about Jessica; feelings he thought he'd gotten over. He was beginning to think that maybe he never would; at least not completely. He had planned to spend the rest of his life with her and when she was ripped from his life, it left a hole he still didn't know how to fill.

Being with Dean helped. Even though his brother didn't know how to fix the problem, Dean did what he had done Sam's whole life; he took care of him. Dean made sure Sam ate, slept and had clean clothes to wear. He looked out for him on the hunts and pulled him away from the edge more than once. When Sam sunk down so low he couldn't see the light above him, Dean took him to people he trusted to help him.

But no matter how much Sam needed and depended on his brother, it was important for him to go back to California on his own. Dean hadn't been a part of that life; he didn't understand the person Sam was then. He wasn't a demon-hunter, he didn't kill things. He was just _Sam_ and that was something he'd never been with Dean.

Dean continued to drive. He ended up skipping breakfast and now it was well past time for lunch. After too much coffee, he was jumpy. The music he loved was doing nothing to soothe his nerves and, in frustration, he ended up turning off the radio. He rarely drove in silence. Even when Sam was asleep in the seat beside him, the music played softly.

Late in the afternoon he stopped for gas and bought a six pack of beer. He followed the signs to a county park, but since it was a weekday and raining softly, he had the place to himself. He carried the beer to a grove of trees, from where he could still see the Impala, and sat at a picnic bench. The seat was damp, but he barely noticed it as he cracked open the first beer.

He was well on his way with the second one when he got a text message from Sam.

_You there? _

_Yeah. _

_Where are you? _

_Tennessee_

_Why? _

_No reason. _

_You know where you're going. _

_Drop it. _

_No hunt? _

_No. Things okay? _

_Yeah. Thanks for earlier. _

Dean took a long drink from the beer. _Anytime. _

_I'll call later. _

Dean slipped the phone back into his pocket and finished the second beer. He reached for a third, but stopped and rubbed his face instead. He felt so weak; he hated that he couldn't seem to take care of himself without Sam to concentrate on first. Maybe instead of another beer, what he needed was a hunt.

Sam got off the bus and tossed his laptop case over his shoulder. A few minutes later, with his duffle bag in hand, he looked for Rebecca. He heard someone calling his name and turned to see his friend rushing toward him. Her long blonde hair had been cut into a short, corporate-looking style that flattered her.

She drove him to the apartment that she and her brother shared and left him alone to get situated and cleaned up.

Once he was alone, Sam sat down on the couch and dialed Dean's number.

"Hey, Sam," Dean answered quickly. "Are you in Palo Alto?"

"Yeah, I'm at Rebecca and Zach's apartment. She's giving me some time to get cleaned up before we grab something to eat."

"Everything okay so far?"

"Yeah, fine. So where are you?"

"Still in Tennessee. I found a gig."

Sam clutched the phone tighter. "Dean –"

"Don't worry, it's nothing complicated. A haunted warehouse in some dinky little town."

"How'd you find it?"

"I opened a newspaper and there it was."

"Uh huh. What are you going to do?"

"See if I can find out who the ghost is, then see if I can find the bones. If not, I'll do a cleansing and call it good."

"Just be careful, okay? And keep in touch."

"Aw, you worried about me?" Dean asked lightly.

"Research isn't your favorite thing to do, Dean. Don't skip any steps."

"Sam –"

"I mean it."

"I won't," Dean promised. "So, you really okay?"

"So far." Sam said honestly. "I haven't had any more nightmares."

"Good. You know, if you need anything –"

"I know, Dean. Thanks."

Even with a job to concentrate on, Dean wasn't himself. He didn't want to spend hours doing research; he wanted to _kill_ something. He almost wished he would come across a vampire or some other creature that didn't require investigation.

After a day of getting nowhere, he was ready to unwind. He decided if he couldn't work out his aggressions on some monster, he'd just have to find some other way to do it. Trying not to think about his last foray into a bar, Dean found a slightly busier establishment in a nearby town. It was another redneck place with a lot of bikers, but Dean could fit the part. He ordered a beer and walked to the pool tables in the back of the room. An hour later he was up a couple hundred dollars and ready to move on to something else.

He scoped out the other customers, the female ones anyway, and set his sights on one in particular.

"Hi," he smiled, taking a stool next to her.

She returned the smile. "Hi. I saw you playing pool. Not bad."

"Thanks. How about I use some of my winnings to buy you a drink?"

"Sure."

Dean motioned for the bartender for two more beers.

"I'm Dean," he said with a grin.

"Lucy."

They tapped their bottles together.

"I haven't seen you here before."

"I'm just passing through."

"Where are you headed?"

"Nowhere in particular. At least not for a while."

She twisted her brown hair around a finger and leaned forward, her already low-cut blouse revealing even more skin. Dean couldn't help but notice, though it wasn't like he tried to ignore it. As they continued to flirt, though, Dean became more uncomfortable. After another drink, it was all he could do not to bolt. He was almost grateful when his cell phone vibrated in his coat pocket.

"I gotta take this," he said, making a show of looking at the phone. "I'll be right back."

She smiled and ran her hand down his thigh. "I'll be here."

Dean slipped off the bar stool as he answered. "Hey."

"Dean? I can barely hear you."

"Hold on, I'm going somewhere quieter" Dean walked out of the bar and headed for his car. He had no intention of going back inside. "Sam?"

"Hey, where are you?"

"A bar. I've been researching all day and came up with nothing. What are you doing?"

"I'm at a party with Rebecca and Zach."

"It's a quiet party." Dean heard nothing but his brother's voice.

"I went outside. It was getting a little crazy."

"Says the party animal," Dean sat behind the wheel of his car.

"Whatever," Sam muttered. "So you want to give me some information about this job you're researching? Maybe I can help."

"You've got your own thing going on there. Don't worry about it."

"It's not like I've got something to do every second of the day," Sam said. "Just think about it."

"I will. Thanks. So what kind of party is this?"

"One of about 100 graduation parties planned for the weekend. Rebecca arranged for a lunch tomorrow with some of my other former classmates."

"Former classmates? You usually call them friends."

"That doesn't really apply to people you do nothing but lie to, does it?" Sam didn't sound angry. Dean thought he sounded resigned; almost defeated.

"Okay, what's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Sam –"

"I'm fine. Really. It's just weird, ya know? We walked around campus today and I remember everything, but it's like they weren't my memories. It's like my time here was a whole other life; a whole other person."

"Well, in a way it was. You're not Joe College anymore."

"Yeah, I guess not," Sam said quietly.

Dean hesitated. "Do you want to be?"

"No. At least not right now. Not until the demon is dead; or until we figure out what it wants from me."

"Sam, if it's something you want to do, don't put it off. _Until _may never come."

"That was pretty deep. How much have you had to drink?" Sam joked, wanting to end the conversation.

"Shut up."

"I'd better get back in there. Give me a call tomorrow."

"I will," Dean promised. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"If you have a nightmare tonight –"

"Yeah, thanks, Dean."

He slipped the phone into his pocket and looked back toward the bar. A moment later, and without regret, Dean started his car and drove to the motel.

Back in his room, Dean couldn't fall asleep and he couldn't help but wonder what was going on with him and the two women who most recently crossed his path. It wasn't that he didn't have any interest; far from it. And it wasn't that he was thinking about Kristine; hell, sometimes thinking about Kristine made it better with the random women he picked up in bars.

It occurred to him at some point later that he was hungry and he realized he couldn't remember his last meal. He briefly considered going out to find something, even if it was from the vending machine, but instead, he rolled over and tried harder to get to sleep.

The next thing he knew, his eyes were open and there was sunlight streaming in through the gap between the thick curtains. He looked at his watch and saw it was almost noon. After a shower and dressing in fresh clothes, he got a pot of coffee going and while waiting for it, he called Sam.

"Hey," Sam answered, sounding tired.

"You awake?"

"Sort of. The party ran pretty late."

"Did I wake you?"

No; I'm up. Find anything on your gig?"

"Not yet. I kinda just woke up."

Sam laughed. "Spare me the details."

"What? You have a dirty mind, Sam."

"Yeah, whatever."

"So what are your plans for the day? You've got that lunch –"

"Yeah, that's in a couple of hours. I thought I might go to the cemetery today; maybe call Jessica's parents."

"Have you even talked to them since you left?"

"No."

"Maybe it's not such a good idea then."

"Maybe," Sam conceded.

"You going to the cemetery alone?"

"I think so."

"I'll be around if you need anything."

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Do you think it's a little pathetic?"

"Do I think what's pathetic?"

"That I depend on you so much."

"We're brothers, man. And we live weird lives. Besides, what happened with Jess? That's a huge thing to deal with."

"I guess."

Dean wasn't sure what else to say. He never thought Sam was overly dependant on him; just the opposite in fact. He was certain that Sam could get along without him quite easily. Sure, he was worried about Sam in California alone, but Dean never thought he would fall apart. In fact, it was him that seemed to be handling being alone badly.

"We spend almost twenty-four hours a day together, seven days a week," Dean continued. "To go from that to zero overnight is an adjustment."

"I guess you're right," Sam sighed. "So how are you adjusting?"

Dean was caught off guard. "All right. I miss having my trusty geekboy sidekick nearby, though."

Sam laughed. "Gee, thanks."

Dean drank coffee while going over the information he found the day before. He wished he had Sam's computer so that he wouldn't have to spend so much time in the library, but he was grateful that the small town at least had one that was adequate. As he looked over his notes, he couldn't help but think about how much neater Sam's research was. He was good out in the field, too, but Sam had a natural talent with research.

He learned to read at an early age and fell in love with books of all kinds. Dean sometimes watched him when he was reading for a hunt; it was almost like the words floated off the page and into his head. Dean sat back in the chair and closed his eyes for a moment. He wished Sam had been able to finish school. What they did was important, but it seemed like such a waste for him to be a college drop-out.

Dean stared out of the window, not really seeing anything. It surprised him that he felt that way; he'd been no happier about Sam going off to school than John had been, but he realized now that it wasn't because he begrudged Sam the education. He'd spent every day with Sam since he was born and the thought of him not being there every day was frightening. He poured another cup of coffee, laughing sadly at the irony. Being without Sam still scared him.

He went to the library again and tried to find news articles about accidents that happened at the warehouse, but everything seemed to be a dead end. The building had been owned by more than one company in the fifty years since it was built and it appeared to have a spotless history. He knew that was impossible; ghosts didn't haunt buildings where nothing happened. After thinking about that, he went back further to look for anything that might have happened before the warehouse was built. He had a few more leads, but a developing headache forced him to take a break.

The library was almost in the center of the small downtown. There was a drug store across the street and Dean went inside to buy a soda. He was leaning against the Impala, drinking it and enjoying some fresh air when his cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

Dean was immediately on guard when he heard the tone of Sam's voice. "What's wrong?"

"I'm at the cemetery."

"Oh," Dean said quietly. "Have you been to the grave?"

"No."

"You don't have to do this," Dean said.

"Yeah, I do."

"She's not there."

"I know she isn't. And I know you took care of it – of her – but it's still her grave."

"Tell me what you see."

"What?"

"Where are you? Tell me what's around."

"I'm still in the parking lot. I borrowed Rebecca's car; she offered to come with me, but understood that I needed to come alone. She said she puts fresh flowers on the grave once a month."

"That's nice of her."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, slightly taken aback by his brother's sensitivity.

"So, the parking lot. If I remember right, there are tree-lined paths that lead off in each direction."

"Maples," Sam said quietly.

"Maples?"

"The trees."

"Oh. And Jess's grave is to the east?"

"There aren't any trees near her grave." Dean wasn't entirely sure that Sam was still talking to him, but he listened anyway. "The path curves around, past a fountain, then you leave the path to get to her. It's to the right."

"You ready to get out of the car?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go," Dean said quietly into the phone.

Sam took the path that led east, past a small rose garden that he didn't remember, and on toward the fountain where he stopped and stared at the water as it flowed from tier to tier.

"Sam?"

He'd almost forgotten he was still holding the phone. "Dean?"

"Where are you?"

"At the fountain."

"You okay?"

"Yeah." He squared his shoulders as he looked toward Jessica's grave. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay."

Sam walked slowly, but with a purpose, as he left the path. He stood in front of Jessica's grave, the marker just as he remembered it, then knelt down and ran his finger over the small picture to the left of her name.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have been here to protect you and I should have told you what was out there."

He sat, cross-legged, at the grave for almost half an hour as good memories flooded his mind. He didn't think he would ever meet anyone like her again, but he thought he was finally in a place where he could be happy that Jessica had been in his life at all. Now if he could only find a way to put his guilt to rest and really move on….

_TBC _


	2. Chapter 2

**Let It Go **

**Chapter 2 **

**Disclaimer**: See chapter 1

oooOOOooo

Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for. Dag Hammarskjold

oooOOOooo

It was early afternoon in Tennessee and Dean was frustrated. Every road he found in the research led nowhere. He was also concerned because he hadn't heard from Sam, but knew his brother would call when he was ready. They often found a lot of comfort just in each other's presence and that was hard to translate over a telephone.

Dean left the library and took a walk through the small business district. He idly wondered if there was a gym in town and thought a workout would be a good way to get rid of some of his tension. He knew what he really wanted to do, but that hadn't worked out very well in his last two attempts and never believed that the third time was the charm.

Realizing he was famished, he stopped at a café at the end of the street and opted for a rear booth in the nearly deserted restaurant. He knew he'd skipped too many meals, but even now, he wasn't very hungry and he ordered only a bowl of soup. He knew if Sam was there, his brother would be worried at his choice of food, but Sam didn't need to know. While eating, he went through his notes and printouts, again noting that Sam's work was neater.

He was on a second cup of coffee when his cell phone rang. He eagerly looked at the caller ID screen and answered. "Hey, Sam."

"Hey, how's your gig going?"

"Like crap. Everything is a dead end."

"I can still help, ya know."

"I think I'm about ready just to do a cleansing and move on," Dean said. "Where are you?"

"Back and Rebecca and Zach's. There's another party tonight."

"Do you want to talk about what happened at the cemetery?"

"Not now," Sam answered. "But I'm okay."

"I know you are," Dean said, wishing he could see his brother's eyes. His words could lie, but his eyes never did.

They talked for over half an hour. Sam asked about the job again and Dean led him through everything he'd done so far. Always excited about research, Sam pulled out his computer and worked while he and Dean talked. He found a few more possibilities, but they also turned out to be dead ends. Sam reluctantly agreed that a cleansing may be the best option.

"Are you going to do it tonight?" he asked.

"Probably early morning; before sunrise. Then I'll just skip town and move on."

"To where?"

"I don't know. I'm just kind of wandering," Dean said, continuing quickly to cut Sam off. "And don't tell me to go to North Carolina."

"You haven't seen Kristine in a while and now's a good time because you don't have me tagging along. Why are you being so stubborn?"

Dean thought about his brother's question; he'd been wondering himself why he was resisting what was a perfect opportunity. Sam took his silence as permission to continue.

"Get a few hours of rest, cleanse the warehouse and get on the road. Have you even called her to let her know you're nearby?"

"No."

"Dean –"

"I'll think about it, okay?"

"Don't think about it. Just do it."

"Why are you pushing this?" Dean asked, hoping he sounded more irritated than he really felt.

"Because I know you like her. You like to spend time with her and you don't get a chance to do it very often."

"Are you worried about me entertaining myself while you're gone?"

"Honestly?"

"No, never mind."

"Come on, man. I know you. I know you don't like to spend too much time alone, but I also know you can handle it if you have to. But the thing is, you _don't _have to. You've got some time off, I'm not there to cramp your style – just go and have some fun."

"Maybe."

He heard Sam sigh. "Come on, Dean. You're the one who wanted time off not that long ago. You're the one who said you were tired of this life –"

"I told you I thought we were going to die when I said that."

"Yeah, when you said it, but not when you first started thinking it. I'll pull out the big guns if I have to."

"Big guns? What does that mean?"

"I'll ask you to go for me."

"That only works when you're giving me the annoying little brother stare."

"Right." Sam didn't believe him.

"Look, I'll think about it, okay?"

"Call her."

"Don't you have a party to get ready for?"

"Fine, I'll drop it. Call me before you head out for the cleansing."

"It's going to be late. Or early, depending on your perspective."

"I don't care. Just call."

"Okay. See ya later."

Sam logged off his computer after his conversation with Dean ended. Rebecca and Zach got home a few minutes later and they all got ready for the bonfire party on a nearby beach. Sam enjoyed the festivities for a while, but he never felt comfortable at parties for very long and soon he was wandering on his own and thinking about things that would only depress him.

"Hey," Rebecca found him later, staring at the water.

He looked at her, surprised, then turned back to the ocean.

"What's on your mind?" she asked.

"A lot of things."

Rebecca sat next to him on the sand. "Did you make it to the cemetery earlier?"

"Yeah, but I don't really want to talk about it."

She nodded. "Talk to your brother?"

"Yeah."

"How's he doing?"

"He's okay. He's working a gig."

"A dangerous one?"

"They're all dangerous, but this one is pretty tame. He'll be all right."

Rebecca watched him. "You're not having a good time, are you?"

He smiled shyly.

"I'm sorry, Sam."

"No, don't be. I haven't changed a whole lot; I've never been really into parties."

"So why did you agree to come?"

"I want to help you celebrate."

"By sitting out here by yourself and staring off in the distance?" she leaned against him.

Sam smiled and put an arm around her. "I'm glad I came."

"But it's hard, too, huh?"

He nodded. "I have a lot to work out."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, but thanks."

Rebecca stood up and held out her hand. "Come and dance with me."

"Becc –"

"It's my party," she said, pretending to pout.

Sam laughed and a few minutes later they joined the crowd near the bonfire and the music. It didn't take long for him to go off by himself again and let his mind wander. He thought back to earlier at the cemetery and had to fight the temptation to call Dean.

Rebecca came looking for him again, but didn't attempt to convince him to come back to the party. Instead, she sat with him and they reminisced about Jessica and their time together at school. She tried to get him to talk about his life now, but he expertly avoided her questions.

The party broke up some time after midnight. Zach headed off with a few friends in search of another party, but Rebecca was ready to call it a night and she knew Sam was well past staying around just to be polite. It didn't take him long to fall asleep, but a nightmare forced him awake a few couple of hours later.

Sam lay in bed, trying to control his breathing. He could hear Madison's whispered thanks in his ears and see her still form in front of him. He jerked in surprise when his cell phone started to vibrate on the bedside table and grabbed it quickly.

"Hello?"

"You told me to call when I was headed out to the cleansing."

"Hey, Dean," Sam said and ran his fingers through his hair. "You have everything you need?"

"Yeah, it's covered. How was the party?"

"It was okay."

"How much time did you spend in a corner by yourself?"

Sam was embarrassed. "We were on the beach. No corners."

"So you sat on the sand and watched the water instead."

Dean's tone was neutral, but it still stung to hear his words. They each had their talents; Dean was good at working a crowd, but Sam was uncomfortable when he was around more than a few people.

"Sam?"

"I'm here," he said quietly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I think so anyway."

"You think? What's going on?"

"Just a lot on my mind."

"Any more nightmares?"

Sam didn't answer.

"You had one tonight, didn't you?"

"Yeah," he said reluctantly.

"Sam –"

"I'm okay, Dean, really. You'd better get going if you're gonna get that cleansing done before sun-up."

Dean knew Sam was done talking. "Okay. Try to get some more sleep and give me a call when you wake up."

Cleansings are generally simple matters, but any time the paranormal is involved, things can go wrong so Dean took all the proper precautions before starting his work. He felt a little like he was cheating by not finding the root cause of the haunting, but sometimes that just wasn't possible. Everything went smoothly and when he was done, Dean headed out of town.

With his favorite music was coming from the radio, he didn't even make a conscious decision about which direction to go. Having spent his life traveling all over the country, he practically had the highway system memorized and he was familiar with many of the back roads as well. He knew how to get to Kristine's from where he was now and had been on the road for almost two hours when he realized that's exactly where he was going. The thought made him suddenly uncomfortable.

He stopped for gas and coffee, but didn't even think about food. He wanted to check on Sam, but hoped his brother was asleep. It was still an odd feeling not to be able to just glance over to make sure Sam was all right. He almost laughed at the irony that despite what he was going through, Sam was probably still in better shape than his big brother.

Back in the car and on the road, Dean wondered if he should call Kristine to let her know he was on his way. There was no rule; sometimes he just showed up, other times they made plans for a visit and once in a great while, she met him somewhere. He also wondered if he should just head in the opposite direction.

He didn't really understand their relationship, but hadn't spent a lot of time trying to figure it out either. They enjoyed each other's company, but their lives were complicated. Dean couldn't stay with her and he wasn't even sure she would want him to. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to stay with anyone permanently, but Kristine was the only one he even thought about in the long-term. They didn't see each other very much, at least not in the last couple of years, but they talked on the phone often. Their contact was more frequent since Patrick's possession and eventual death. Dean suspected the yellow-eyed demon would not hesitate to use Kristine against him again and wanted to make sure she was as safe as possible.

Dean listened to his music, got lost in his thoughts and completely forgot about calling Kristine. He talked to Sam and was glad that he sounded better than their earlier conversation, but he was nervous about a semi-formal party he was attending that afternoon with Rebecca. It was being hosted by her sorority and she specifically asked Sam to escort her when he agreed to come to the graduation. Dean gave him all the encouragement he could, but he knew Sam would be uncomfortable no matter what.

The conversation ended just as Dean got to another small town. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and pulled into a diner parking lot. Every mile closer to North Carolina made him more nervous and he couldn't help but wonder if the same thing that happened with the last two women he'd tried to pick up would happen when he was with Kristine. He'd never had trouble with women before and he didn't understand what happened to him.

It was only early afternoon, but he considered finding a motel and stopping for the day. He tried to rationalize the thought by telling himself that he didn't get much sleep the night before and could use a few hours off the road. The truth was, he was afraid. He just hadn't quite figured out what exactly he was afraid _of_.

He also felt guilty. He'd gone looking for a job because it was what he'd been trained to do and because he needed the distraction, but he felt like he'd taken the easy way out by performing the cleansing instead of finding who the ghost had been. Sam was also on his mind. His worry wasn't just because he was in Palo Alto for the first time since Jessica died; he was concerned about the bigger issue. What would happen if his father's fears about Sam were true? Dean was scared he wouldn't be able to save his little brother and Sam would somehow turn evil. How was he supposed to kill the same person he'd been trained to protect?

Trained. Sure, their father put him in charge of Sam's care, but Dean would have felt the same way even if John had done nothing. He still remembered sitting on his father's lap when he and his mother told him he was going to be a big brother. He immediately wanted to be the best big brother ever and didn't care if it was to a brother or sister.

Dean leaned over to open the glove compartment and rummaged around inside until he found a small leather folder at the bottom. He unfastened the strap and opened it slowly. A small picture fell out onto the seat next to him and he picked it up with a shaking hand. Dean smiled, running his finger over his baby brother's face. He looked through the few other pictures in the folder; Sam was in every one and he suddenly missed his brother very much.

He was surprised by the abrupt rawness of his emotions and he didn't trust himself to drive. After slipping the pictures back into the folder and hiding it at the bottom of the glove compartment, Dean went into the diner. He wanted a beer, but settled for a soda. He still wasn't hungry, but was aware he'd eaten very little in the last few days so he asked for a sandwich as well. While waiting for his order, Dean headed for the men's room.

Having caught a glimpse of his pale face and the dark circles under his eyes, Dean avoided his reflection in the mirror as he washed his hands. He knew he had to start taking better care of himself or he would end up sick and that's the last thing he wanted to happen; especially if he was still sick when it was time to meet Sam. They were relatively lucky when it came to their health, but being battle-ready helped to keep them from catching random colds. They also worked out whenever they could and were in better shape than some athletes; they had to be to fight some of the monsters they encountered.

Back at the table, Dean forced down the sandwich and finished two colas. He read the local newspaper while he ate, but his mind kept going back to Sam. He knew, if it came down to it, he could kill Sam. It would be the last option, but he could do it if that was the only way to save him. But what he didn't know is what would happen next? He would burn his brother's body to keep him from coming back as a malevolent spirit, but then what? Could he go on as the last remaining Winchester? And what would _going on_ entail? He couldn't imagine hunting without Sam by his side; at least not long-term.

When the brothers thought Sam had been infected by the demon virus they discovered in Oregon, Dean told him that he was tired of the life. He tried to blow it off later, saying he thought they were both going to die, but Sam didn't let him off the hook and he ended up telling him about their father's secret. The truth was, he was tired of the life. He wanted to destroy the demon, now more than ever because it took their father, but he also wanted to see what life without the hunt would look like.

After he was finished, Dean paid the check and headed to the parking lot. He was surprised to find out that between sitting in the parking lot and eating he'd been at the diner for almost two

hours. He knew it hadn't been that long since he talked to Sam, but he still missed his brother and wanted – needed – to hear his voice.

"Hey, Dean," Sam answered the phone, sounding somewhat surprised. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I just wanted – I know you're nervous about that party and I figured you'd be getting dressed for it about now…."

"Yeah, I am." Dean suspected Sam didn't completely believe his reason for calling, but he trusted that Sam knew when not to push him. "We're leaving in about twenty minutes."

"You know, I went to some formal thing with Kristine once."

"You did?" Sam had no idea.

"Yeah. It was when I was staying with her, before – before Dad went missing. She had to go to some cocktail party at the mayor's mansion –"

"Hold on, you were at the mayor's mansion?" Sam nearly laughed.

Dean found himself laughing, too. "Yeah. She dressed me up in a tux and dragged me along. It was horrible."

"Thanks, man, that's real encouraging."

"Maybe it's not my best story," Dean conceded. "But I got through it and didn't embarrass myself or Kristine. You'll do fine, Sam. You've got experience with this kind of thing; you know how to hang with normal people."

"Thanks, Dean." Sam said softly, then continued a moment later. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

Dean hesitated. He wasn't at all sure that he was okay, but he couldn't tell Sam that. He also couldn't tell him that the real reason he called was that he missed him and just needed to hear his voice.

"I'm okay. And you'll be happy to know that I'm going to Kristine's."

oooOOOooo

The Ryan family was very influential, not only in the small town where Kristine was raised, but elsewhere in the state as well. They were old money and had lived in the area for generations. Though she had relatives in nearby Asheville and more distant relatives in Charlotte, she was the last remaining member of her immediate family. They weren't a particularly close family and tended to see each other only at obligatory social functions. Keeping up appearances meant a lot to her mother and out of respect for her, Kristine kept up many of the same traditions. She realized her economic position afforded her many luxuries, but along with it came responsibilities. She worked with many of the same charities her mother had supported and even found some new ones after her mother's death.

Though she was somewhat of a rebel, Kristine's life was very much dictated by obligation. She felt a lot of pressure to live the kind of life her mother and father would have thought appropriate and tried to complete to the social responsibilities her family history and economic status dictated. In the vast majority of cases, she didn't mind. She had no problem showing up at family functions where her presence was expected; just because she wasn't close to her relatives didn't mean she disliked them. She also enjoyed many of the cultural events she felt required to attend. There was a particular time of year, though, where Kristine struggled to do even the most basic things.

When she was growing up, though they were separated by four years, Kristine's older sister was her best friend. Lauren was like their mother; she was interested in fashion and making the right statement in every situation. Her goal was to marry well and run the household and maintain the social calendar while her husband earned the money. Kristine was a tom-boy and preferred jeans and t-shirts to anything that resembled even a dress. She was extremely popular, but she didn't think much about boys and never thought about marriage.

Lauren married young and while Patrick wasn't the fabulously wealthy man she'd dreamed of as a child, he came from a good family. More important, she loved him and it was clear to everyone that Lauren was his first priority. Kristine was beyond devastated when her sister and six-month old nephew died. She didn't speak for weeks afterward and required a great deal of counseling to cope with even the most basic of life's activities. She insisted she should have been able to save them and her mother didn't think she'd be able to move past the guilt she felt.

Kristine was hospitalized intermittently for two years following her sister's death; she engaged in destructive behavior and Julia was constantly afraid for her remaining daughter's life. Suddenly, though, Kristine seemed to come to terms with what happened; Patrick had learned the truth about the existence of the paranormal and somehow that helped Kristine accept her beloved sister's death. Gradually, she turned her life around and went back to being the gregarious and responsible girl she'd been before.

Life wasn't perfect for Kristine, though. She still experienced very bleak times, especially in the weeks surrounding the anniversary of the fire. Some years seemed worse than others. Kristine never wanted to worry her mother and there were times when she worked very hard just to appear all right. After Julia's death, despite Patrick's positive influence, she slipped again. After pulling herself out of what she always described as the dark hole, Kristine was determined that Patrick would want for nothing.

Dean didn't know much about the dark hole. He never saw Kristine during the really bad times, and though she talked to him about it, she always downplayed how bad it would get. She called him after her mother died and he spent several weeks with her, but she held herself together until he was gone. Despite losing her mother and, later, Patrick, the worst times for Kristine were still the weeks surrounding her sister's death. All the counseling, as well as her own education and helping clients with the same problems, didn't keep her from the downward spiral.

He probably wouldn't have thought about it anyway, but Dean didn't know that the anniversary of Lauren's death was only weeks ago. He also didn't know that Kristine had taken a leave of absence from work. They talked regularly, but their conversations were never absolutely honest.

There were too many things for the other person to worry about as it was and they never wanted to make their separation harder.

No matter what was going on in her life, Kristine always made time for the hunters who sought solace at the estate. She did it for the people in her family who had fallen victim to the demon, but also out of respect for the Winchesters. John had helped Patrick and introduced him to others who could assist in his training. He was also the only man her mother was ever attracted to in the years after her father's death and he treated Kristine like his own daughter.

The house was staffed twenty-four hours a day by people who knew about the paranormal. Kristine had to be careful about employees; the town thought she was running a clinic and she never wanted the truth to be discovered. With her money and connections, it was easier to make everything appear legitimate, but it still wasn't without risk. Kristine had regular hours at the house that she tried to adhere to and would do everything possible to make herself available for emergencies. Hunters would often come to the house in dire need of medical and psychological assistance and she prided herself on making sure everyone who came to her left in better shape than they arrived.

Kristine had been at the house for almost four hours. The two hunters currently in residence were leaving the next day and she wanted to make sure they went off with everything they needed. She planned to leave after dinner, but when the tequila started to pour, she decided to stick around. At least while drinking with them, she would be anonymous. She couldn't drink much at the only bar in town because, not only was she too recognizable, it was among the businesses her family owned. It was somewhat easier in Asheville, but that often required an overnight stay – especially when she was descending into the hole.

The house was situated near the middle of a ten acre lot. The area right around it was landscaped and there were tennis courts and a pool nearby, but most of the acreage was left undeveloped. Kristine's cottage was, at one time, where the estate caretaker lived, but the person filling that role now lived in the main house and helped to care for the hunters. It was situated at the end of the estate with easy access to town, but a maintained dirt road connected it to the main house. Even though the road was only just over a mile long, Kristine probably should have walked. She lost count of the number of shots she had and one of the hunters had long ago passed out in the living room. At least the road was private and the only one she could hurt was herself.

Normally, when she came from the main house, she used her back door, but something caused her to walk around to the front. She almost fell over when she saw Dean's Impala parked in the long driveway.

"Oh crap," she muttered.

Dean pulled up to the dark cottage and parked. He had a key and could have gone inside, but he didn't feel comfortable doing that when Kristine didn't even know he was in town. After knocking on the door to make sure she really wasn't home, he settled on the porch. The chairs were comfortable and the night was warm enough. He felt a little guilty for just showing up on Kristine's doorstep, but she had always welcomed him before.

As he sat on the porch, he thought again about how strange their relationship really was. They truly operated without any rules and that seemed to work for both of them. Dean knew that he wasn't monogamous and he could only assume the same was true for Kristine, though they never talked about it. He realized that he didn't really want to know.

He could hear the music before the car engine. Kristine tended to play the car stereo loud, especially on the private estate road, but her music of choice tended to be country or classic rock. He couldn't make out any of the words, but what Dean heard now sounded to him like angry speed metal. He wouldn't have been surprised to fine someone other than Kristine arriving.

Once the silence returned, he expected to hear the back door close and see the lights come inside, but a few minutes later the cottage was still dark. He walked down the three steps and was headed around the house when he saw Kristine, walking uncertainly, toward him.

"Kristine?" he called.

He saw her head turn from the Impala to him. It was too dark to see the details of her expression, but thought he saw something else before her smile. As much as he resisted the idea of coming here, Dean's heart skipped a beat when he saw Kristine.

"Dean…" she stumbled forward, quickly righting her step.

"Are you okay?" he asked, not sure if he should go to her or not.

"Yeah, I just had a few shots with a couple hunters at the house. What are you doing here? Are you all right?" Kristine continued toward him. "Where's Sam?"

"He's spending some time at Stanford; visiting friends and going to the graduation."

She looked surprised.

"He felt like he needed some time alone," Dean shrugged. He was close enough to put his arms around her, but he was oddly afraid. He didn't trust himself and something about her seemed off.

"How long has he been gone?" she asked. Dean thought she was having to put too much effort into speaking and wondered how many shots she actually had.

"A few days."

"What have you been doing?"

"I worked a gig and came here."

Kristine nodded.

"Look, if it's not okay that I'm here –"

"No, of course it's okay." She reached for him and touched his arm. "Let's go inside."

Dean felt a jolt when he felt her hand on his arm and he let her lead him toward the house, noticing the unsteadiness in her walk.

"Why didn't you just go in?" she asked as she handed him her key.

Dean looked at her curiously, but took the key and opened the door without comment. "I didn't think it was a good idea since you didn't even know I was in town."

"And why didn't you call to tell me you were in town?" she asked as Dean swung the door open.

He didn't answer her question and Kristine gestured toward the living room. "I'm going to splash some cold water on my face. I'll be right back; make yourself at home. If you're hungry, there might be something in the kitchen."

Dean watched as she made her way up the stairs before he went into the kitchen. He wasn't hungry, but wanted something to drink. The refrigerator was almost empty of food, but there was a lot of beer. He grabbed one, then started to look through the cabinets find they were mostly bare as well. He realized he shouldn't snoop, but he opened the cabinet under the sink and saw the recycling bin was overflowing with empty alcohol bottles. Leaving the beer on the counter, Dean went upstairs to Kristine's bedroom.

She was sitting on the edge of her bed, head in her hands and he watched her from the hallway for several seconds.

"Kristine."

Her head shot up and he got his first good look at her. Though the only light was coming from the hallway, he could see that her hair was shorter than he remembered and looked disheveled. She was also thinner than he remembered and the clothes she wore hung on her. There was an old bruise on her cheek and her eyes were bloodshot.

"What's goin' on, Darlin'?"

She smiled. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not really in the mood to play games," he said and walked into the room. Kristine wasn't a compulsive cleaner, but she was generally organized. He saw a pile of clothes on the floor, more beer bottles on the dresser and earrings left out on the bedside table. He stood in front of her and held her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Where did you get the bruise?"

She didn't hesitate. "Angry client."

He didn't believe her, but said nothing and caressed her uninjured cheek with his thumb.

"Dean," she whispered, leaning into his hand.

He moved away, taking in more of the room and what he saw worried him. He heard Kristine stand up and a moment later her arms were around his waist and he felt her head against his back. He let himself enjoy the sensation, trying to pretend things were normal. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply; the scent of her perfume reaching him. Before he got too comfortable, he pulled away and turned to face her. There was a vacant quality to her eyes and it was painfully obvious that appearing to be all right was using a lot of energy that she didn't have.

Kristine surprised him by grabbing his shirt and pulling him forward into a rough kiss. It wasn't her usual behavior; she was normally more reserved and tender. Dean always felt important and appreciated when he and Kristine were intimate, but though the kiss was initially exciting, it quickly morphed into an empty feeling and Dean pulled away.

"Dean –"

"What are you doing, Kristine? What's going on with you?"

She moved toward him, meaning to take hold of his shirt again, but he managed to avoid her.

"What's going on with me?" she repeated. "What's going on with _you_? We both know why you're here."

Dean didn't quite know how to interpret her tone. It wasn't exactly angry, but there was definitely no humor in it. While she might be speaking louder right now than she had been, her voice still had the same flat quality that Dean noticed when he first arrived. When he didn't say anything, she continued.

"You had to have been nearby and I'm easier to seduce than someone you'd pick up in a bar."

"Is that what you think?" Dean was hurt.

Kristine put her hands on her hips. "You have free rein with me, don't you? You don't have to play the game with me. You don't have to buy me drinks or, God forbid, dinner. There doesn't have to be any small talk and you don't have to explain away the scars because I already know they're there and what caused them. And the best part? I know what you like; where and how to touch you…. So come over here and take what you're here for."

Dean had spent too much time with his emotions too close to the surface over the last few days and he was overcome with the same feelings as when unexpectedly confronted with some supernatural being. Adrenaline kicked in and instinct took over; he didn't stop to think, he just reacted. Dean grabbed Kristine by the shoulders and pushed her into the wall behind her, not noticing her head making contact. Pinning her with his body, Dean kissed her forcefully and fisted a handful of her hair.

Slightly dizzy from the impact against the wall, Kristine held fast to Dean's collar and returned his kiss, just as vigorously as it was offered. He tore her shirt trying to get the buttons open and it fell to the floor. Though he now had a firm grip of her wrists, Kristine somehow managed to push away from the wall, forcing him backward. In a tangle of hands and legs, they fell onto the bed and, without considering what they already knew of each other, savagely went after their own satisfaction.

It was intense but over quickly and as Dean rolled onto his back, he was horrified at what he had done. While ripe with bravado, he had never taken advantage of any woman the way he had just done with Kristine. Her took her silence for fear and rolled out of bed, slipping into his pants as he stumbled from the room. His exit was too unexpected and Kristine didn't have time to react. She managed to call his name as he rushed from the room, but he didn't respond.

Slightly more in control of herself and slipping into the familiar role of counselor, Kristine realized what Dean must be feeling. Not hearing the front door or the unmistakable sound of the

Impala's engine, she knew had a little time to reach him. She got out of bed and put on Dean's shirt. Hers was all but destroyed and his was not only comfortable, it was convenient. She put on her jeans and stopped in the bathroom to check her reflection before going to find Dean. She could already feel the slight lump on the back of her head and suspected there would be bruises on her shoulders and wrists.

Dean was on the back deck, leaning on the railing and staring into the darkness beyond. When she softly called his name, he jumped as if he'd been attacked. He looked at her with a mixture of fear and shame, then turned away. Kristine was still too consumed with her own darkness to feel much for Dean right now, but it was hard to ignore years of training and natural empathy. She could see he was hurting and she knew how hard it must have been for him to be separated from his brother, but wanting to console him had nothing to do with _feeling. _It was just something she knew how to do.

_TBC _


	3. Chapter 3

**Let It Go **

**Chapter 3**

**Disclaimer**: See chapter 1

oooOOOooo

I been caught sideways out here on the crossroads  
Tryin' to buy back the pieces I lost of my soul  
It's hard when the devil won't get off your back  
It's like carryin' around the past in a hundred pound sack

Tim McGraw, Let It Go, 2007 

oooOOOooo

Kristine had to force herself forward. She wasn't afraid of Dean. She knew that under normal circumstances he would never hurt her and, in fact, he hadn't done anything she didn't push him to do. She got exactly what she wanted out of their encounter. She briefly considered touching him, but didn't think he would respond well, so instead, she only stood near him.

"I'm sorry."

His words were softer than a whisper, yet somehow they echoed in Kristine's head.

"You didn't do anything I didn't want you to do."

Dean didn't believe her. "I should probably leave –"

"No!" She might not be able to feel much right now, but frustration definitely made it through the barricades. Kristine closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She didn't want to deal with this. Dean was complicated and she needed easy right now. "God damnit, Dean…"

He turned toward her as Kristine began to pace, her hands clasped behind her head. The motion was vaguely reminiscent of what he had seen Sam do many times before and the sudden flash of his brother only added to his negative feelings. A moment later, Kristine flopped onto a nearby chair.

"I can't do this," she said.

"I know. I'm sorry –"

Kristine looked at him. "If you apologize again…. Dean, I _wanted_ you to do what you did. Can't you just take that at face value?"

Dean looked at her, arms crossed over his chest. He'd pulled his t-shirt on as he left her bedroom, but it was getting cold and he wished he had his jacket. He thought back to the empty alcohol bottles and clutter he'd seen around the house. He remembered the stagger when she first came around the house and how she'd been sitting on the bed when he found her later. He studied the vacant look in her eyes. He couldn't help but wonder how many times Sam had seen that same look in his own eyes; especially after their father died and before he'd shared the secret.

Dean was tired of the hunt. He was tired of the responsibility. And most of all, he was tired of the pain. He thought about what Kristine had said to him; that he only came for one thing. He knew that wasn't true, but was that the impression he really gave her? Is that what she truly thought? She knew so much about him, but so little had actually been said.

Kristine was still sitting in the chair; her eyes were closed and Dean wasn't entirely sure she hadn't fallen asleep. He had no idea what to say to her, so he simply stood against the deck railing feeling guilty. Almost as if she felt his eyes on her, Kristine looked at him a moment later.

"Now what?" she asked, sounding defeated.

"I have no idea."

"Well, that sucks," she said and closed her eyes, getting more comfortable in the oversized chair.

Dean couldn't help but smile, but there wasn't much humor behind it.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked quietly.

"No."

"What you said before…" Dean began uncomfortably, looking away even though her eyes were still closed. "It's not true. I don't come here just – just for sex."

Kristine knew that and she only said it to him to make him react; she needed him angry and out of control to get what she needed. She never intended to make him a part of her problem and she had no idea how to fix any of the problems she seemed to have created. The physical pain she felt wasn't enough to pull her out of the hole and she wondered if she'd let it go too far this time. But whatever was going on with her, she couldn't let Dean suffer.

"I'm not supposed to lose control. Ever," she heard Dean say.

Kristine opened her eyes and leaned forward. "What?"

"I lose control and someone could get hurt. Or die. There have been times in the last few months where I was so close to losing it and Sam – he had to pull me back…."

As she watched him, Dean seemed to almost disappear. She could tell he was reliving every mistake he'd made in every hunt he'd been on in the last few months and she hated sitting by and watching it. She wasn't sure there was anything else she could do, though, and this was exactly why she'd taken a leave of absence from the clinic in Asheville. If she couldn't help herself, there was no way she could help her patients. The best thing she could do for them was turn their care over to someone else, but she couldn't do that with Dean. He was too closed off and, other than his brother, there was no one but her he would talk to.

"Dean, don't do this to yourself." She spoke quietly, afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. She had years of education and experience and she never felt this way with her patients. The hunters were harder, but she still felt in control. Dean was a hunter, but he wasn't a patient. She had a personal, intimate relationship with him. She refused to examine their relationship, but she knew that she loved him. At least she did under normal circumstances, when she wasn't struggling for every breath she took. But even now, seeing him in this emotional turmoil, she had the vaguest amount of compassion for him.

She watched as he turned to the darkness of her back yard. It took every ounce of strength that Kristine had to get out of the chair and walk toward Dean. She forced her hand to stop shaking as she reached out to touch his arm. He flinched, but didn't pull away.

"You must hate me," he said.

"Why would you say that?"

"I'm not good for you, Kristine. I'm not good for anyone – and after what I did to you –"

"Stop it!" She was more forceful than she intended, but Dean's instincts kicked in and he responded to what sounded like an order. He stood straighter and his whole demeanor changed. Kristine knew this wasn't going to be any easier to deal with than him feeling sorry for himself and she found herself wishing Sam was here.

Dean still had not pulled away and she could feel his cold skin under her arm. She hadn't noticed the drop in temperature, but now that her attention was drawn to it, she realized she was cold. Without saying anything, she managed to lead him into the house and into the living room.

"Listen to me," Kristine said as she sat on the couch next to him. "You didn't do anything that I didn't want you to do."

Dean was quiet and Kristine continued. "I manipulated you; pushed your buttons –"

"You think I'm so easily manipulated?"

"You think you aren't?" She stopped herself before the challenge made things worse. "Is that something you normally do?"

"No! I don't hurt women!"

Kristine had to hold onto his arm to keep him from moving away from her, but once she was satisfied he would stay put, she moved her hand. "I know that. And I'm okay."

He looked at her and held up her arm. The long sleeve of his shirt fell back, revealing the bruises that had already started to form. She moved to pull away when Dean noticed something still partially covered by the material; he held her and pushed the shirt further up her arm. It had been too dark to see in the bedroom earlier, but there was a web of small scars on her forearm. She had been hurt when a demon-possessed brother-in-law tortured her, but those injuries wouldn't have caused what Dean was now seeing.

Kristine pulled away, embarrassed, and pulled the sleeve back into place. She crossed her arms over her stomach and leaned away from Dean.

"How did that happen?" Dean asked quietly.

"I thought we were talking about you."

"Now we're talking about you."

"I don't want to," she said and looked away.

"Yeah, well, _I _do," he said defiantly.

"Dean, please." A tear rolled down Kristine's cheek.

"Did someone hurt you?"

"Dean –"

"Tell me!" he demanded.

Kristine flinched. "I did it."

Dean looked at her. "What?"

"Most of the time I'm okay," Kristine began. She saw him look at her. "I love my job – when I can help guide someone to where they want to be, I get such a feeling of accomplishment. And when a hunter leaves the estate feeling better on the way out than on the way in; ready to fight the good fight again? That's amazing, even if all I did was provide the bed and the clean sheets. I have some friends – no one I let get too close, but they think they're friends and that's good enough. I have social obligations that stem from being a Ryan and that isn't my favorite thing to do, but it would make my mom proud so I go. I have hobbies and plenty of ways to spend my time. But sometimes –"

Dean waited. Kristine felt so far away right now.

"Sometimes?" he prompted.

"Sometimes there's darkness. It's crushing and I can't see anything. But I know how to fix it. I'm a therapist, right? I know how to get out of a depression and most of the time, I can do it. I can see a light way off in the distance and I know how to move toward it. When I get there, it's gray for a while, but I get better. But once in a while, I don't want to go to the light. I stay in the darkness because it's easier than trying, but it's not a good place. The longer I stay, the worse I feel. It's like a black hole and as I hover on the Event Horizon, I know I can still get out. But I don't get out; I get sucked further in. Then it's not just crushing. It's impenetrable and everything is so black…"

She was scaring him now; she could feel it. But now that she started, she couldn't stop talking.

"When I'm there, I can't feel anything. There's no happy or sad; there's no fear or pain. For a while, it's okay because sometimes I feel so damn much. I miss my family, you know? I live this secret life that just sometimes overwhelms me. I can't talk to my friends about the supernatural stuff and I can't talk to the hunters about the normal stuff. But the darkness is…. it's safe, I 

guess. But then I want out; I want to come back. I just want to feel something again. A happy medium. I can't see the light anymore; I don't even know which way to go to get to it. And the only thing I've found –"

"Violence," he said. "I know that feeling."

"You have the hunt."

Dean nodded. "So this is what you do? You cut yourself?"

"Cutting; self-mutilation. I can tell you all the psychological stuff that goes along with it –"

"Maybe later. And before? In your bedroom? You do that, too?"

She looked at him. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

He seemed to consider the question. "Tell me."

Kristine stood up and walked across the room. "I drive to Asheville and go to this club I found. I pick up a guy and –"

"Okay, I get it." Dean rubbed his face.

"That's what you walked in on tonight. The anniversary of my sister's death wasn't that long ago and it's been dark for a few weeks," Kristine shrugged. "I couldn't be with you the way you needed. I couldn't be tender and compassionate. I needed a jump-start and I pushed you until you had no choice but to be that jump-start. I'm sorry, Dean. I never meant – well, I never meant you to find out about any of this at all, but especially not this way."

Dean leaned forward on the couch and looked at Kristine. She turned away from him, staring out of the window into a darkness so much like what she felt inside. He hesitated, completely unsure about what he should do. He wasn't good with this kind of thing; too much truth was hard to handle, but he couldn't just walk away.

He understood pain. He understood needing a violent release. Isn't that exactly what he'd been looking for when he found the haunted warehouse? He hadn't wanted to work a job; he wanted to kill something.

Kristine knew Dean was coming toward her and she wasn't sure what she wanted from him. As much as she needed someone to support her right now, she hated that it was going to be Dean. He already took on so much responsibility and he never let anyone, even Sam, take any of it off his shoulders. He hadn't come here for sex; Kristine knew that. He came here for solace. She turned to face him when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Why don't we try to get some sleep?" he suggested. "We'll figure everything out tomorrow."

Kristine nodded and allowed Dean to lead her upstairs. She was tired of talking and welcomed any reason to stop.

He was about to get into bed next to her when his cell phone rang.

"That's probably Sam."

"Talk to him," she urged.

He looked uncertain.

"Talk to your brother," she said, more sternly.

Dean found the phone in his jacket. "Hey, Sam."

"Hey, I know it's late there and I know you're with Kristine –"

"It's okay. How did the party go?" Dean asked as he walked into the hallway.

"I survived. It could have been worse. I kept thinking of you in a tux at the mayor's mansion and that got me through."

"Glad to help," Dean said sarcastically. "What's next in the graduation madness?"

"Rebecca's parents are coming into town and there are more dignified events planned for next week. I'm going to lie low tomorrow; give the family time together."

"What are you going to do?"

"The apartment Jess and I lived in is vacant –"

"Sam –"

"I walked past the building today."

"Yeah? How was it?"

"Hard. But I want to go inside. I know it's different now; they had to remodel it after the fire."

Dean noticed the slight change in his brother's tone and he suspected that Sam was picturing the apartment in his head.

"I don't know if I like the idea of you going there by yourself," Dean said, incapable of not being the big brother.

"I'll be okay."

"I know you will, but –"

"So how are things going there? The PG rated version, please."

Dean hesitated; he didn't know how to answer the question.

"Dean?"

"Sorry. Yeah, uh, it's good." He didn't sound convincing to his own ears.

"Good. Well, I'll let you get back to Kristine. Say hi for me."

"I will. Hey, call me before you head to the apartment tomorrow."

"I –"

"Just do it," Dean said, anticipating Sam's answer. Now that he was with Kristine, he knew that Sam would feel like he should give them space. "What time are you going?"

"Some time in the morning; before I can talk myself out of it."

"Call me. I don't care what time. And Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"If you have a nightmare tonight –"

"Thanks, Dean."

Dean went back to the bedroom and put his phone next to the bed.

"Is he all right?" Kristine asked as Dean got settled next to her.

"Yeah. He wants to go to the apartment he shared with Jess tomorrow."

"That's a big step," she said, resting her head on his chest. He put a protective arm around her.

"He went to her grave the other day. He's doing okay."

"But you're still worried."

"I always worry about him. It's my…."

"It's your what?" she asked.

"I was going to say it's my job, but that isn't it. He's my brother and I want him to be okay."

"You're a good man, Dean Winchester."

"Whatever. Get some sleep."

oooOOOooo

Sam put his phone on the charger and sat down on his bed. He knew something was going on in North Carolina; he'd gotten an uneasy feeling earlier and just now he'd heard something in Dean's voice. He had psychic abilities, but his visions tended to be painful and attached somehow to the yellow-eyed demon. He'd never really experienced the sensation he had earlier, but he knew for certain that something was happening with his brother. He didn't sense danger and had forced himself not to call immediately, but now he almost wished he had.

Dean thought he hid things from Sam well, but the truth was, he always knew when Dean was pretending. He supposed it was force of habit on Dean's part; their father put him in charge of Sam's care at much too young an age and Dean was used to making sure things were okay. Like any good parent, he didn't let on when things were going wrong. But Sam wasn't a child anymore and, though he understood his brother's motivation, he wished Dean realized he could help. It was better than it used to be, Sam supposed. At least now he could usually cajole Dean into honesty if he chose his moment just right.

Sighing, Sam got into bed and pulled the blankets over him. Even though he was worried about his brother, he managed to get to sleep fairly quickly. And, luckily, it was a dream-free night.

Dean was in the kitchen early the next afternoon with a large mug of coffee on the table in front of him when his cell phone started to ring. It was nearly nine in California and he was surprised not to have heard from Sam yet. He tried calling when he woke up, but only got Sam's voicemail and thought maybe he was still asleep.

Kristine didn't fall asleep until early morning and had yet to stir. Dean was uncharacteristically thankful for some time alone. He was afraid of what would happen when she woke up; the conversation they had to have wouldn't be any easier than the one the night before.

He grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Dean," Sam sounded defeated.

"Where have you been?"

"The apartment."

"Sam –"

"I was going to just pick the lock and go in, but the landlord was there. He remembered me and we talked for a little while, then he let me in. He said I could stay as long as I wanted."

"Is that where you are now?"

"Yeah," he whispered.

"The bedroom?"

"I can feel the heat from the fire."

"Sam, that fire was a long time ago."

"Not so long," Sam said, sounding far away. "If you hadn't come back, I'd be dead now. I would have died trying to get her off that ceiling. Why did you come back?"

The question surprised Dean; he'd been prepared just to listen to Sam talk.

"You're my brother," he said weakly.

"That isn't what I mean," Sam corrected. "You drove off and I went inside the apartment. You were going to call; I thought we could hook up after my interview."

Dean remembered. He still wasn't sure which was more difficult; going to Stanford to ask for Sam's help after so much time apart, or leaving him after only a couple of days together.

"So what made you turn around and come back?"

Dean was torn away from his own thoughts when he heard his brother's voice through the telephone. He laid a hand on the table, almost as if it could steady him. "I – the radio in the car started playing static; my watch stopped. You know, the classic signs of paranormal activity and I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Was the apartment already burning?"

"Uh –" Dean closed his eyes. He didn't want to remember how his brother almost died. "Yeah. I saw the flames from outside and I kicked the door in. You were in the bedroom –"

"I got home and heard the shower running. Jess made cookies. She left them on the table with a note saying that she missed me; that she loved me. I thought she was in the shower; I heard the water –"

"Sam –"

"I laid down on the bed, eating a cookie with my eyes closed. I felt something drop onto my forehead, but I still didn't open my eyes. It was my nightmare coming true and I think I knew that. I felt another drop and finally…. She was on the ceiling and her eyes were open. There was a gash across her abdomen and it was her blood that had fallen on me."

"Sam, don't do this."

"She burst into flames before I could react and then all of a sudden you were there, pulling me out. I fought you; I wanted to save her, but you – if it hadn't been for you, I would have died."

"Sam, please…." Dean said it so softly that he could barely hear himself. He didn't want to think about what would have happened if he'd been just a few seconds later. If Sam had fought him just a little harder. If he hadn't been too weak to look for their father on his own. He didn't want to think about Sam dying in that fire.

Dean could see Sam in the empty bedroom of the unoccupied apartment and wished he was there. He hated that his brother had to live with this; he'd watched anger and despair ruin their father and he didn't want to see the same thing happen to Sam. Even after everything he had seen and experienced, there was still an innocence to him that Dean hoped never went away.

If he was in the room with his brother, there probably wouldn't be any words. There was nothing he could say to make this better. He would sit close to Sam and wait until he was ready to leave, though he might end up having to prompt him. Sam would know he was nearby; that he could look at him and garner strength and resolve from him. But what could Dean do over the phone? The only thing he knew for sure was that he couldn't do nothing.

"Sam?" he began quietly. "Talk to me."

"Did I ever thank you?"

"What?"

"For saving me. For taking care of me. Did I ever thank you?"

"You don't have to thank me." It was so hard to speak.

"Yeah, well. You've always been there for me, man. Always."

"Stop, Sam. Look, you're my brother and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, but I need you to listen to me. You've seen the apartment and you need to leave now. Get out of there; go find your friends and hang around with people for a while." He waited, but there was no response from his brother. "Sam?"

"It's been over two days."

"What?"

"It's been over two days since you called me _Sammy_."

"I – I didn't realize –"

Now that their father was gone, there was only one person in the world who used the childhood nickname. Dean knew there was a time when Sam hated hearing it; it made him feel like a kid and he saw it as an insult. What it took him a while to realize was that his brother and father never used the name to belittle him and that it was a term of endearment. Dean tried not to use the nickname around other people, but he was less careful when it was just the two of them. It shocked him that Sam not only noticed he wasn't using it, but seemed to miss it.

Dean leaned forward and pinched the bridge of his nose. Did everything have to be so hard? He truly hadn't realized he wasn't using the nickname, but now that he did, he couldn't help but wonder why.

"Dean?" He heard Sam clear his throat and could visualize him squaring his shoulders. "Look, I, uh, I'm outside now. "I'm going to meet some people for pizza in a little while."

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Sam's tone had changed. He no longer sounded afraid and Dean knew he wouldn't talk about the apartment again until he was ready. "So are things there going all right?"

"Yeah," Dean lied. "Fine."

If Sam noticed the catch in his voice, he didn't mention it. "So, look, uh, you'll give me a call later?"

Dean forced his voice to sound steady. "Yeah."

After the call ended, Dean was tired; he felt like he'd been battling some supernatural beast for hours. Without thinking about it, he walked upstairs and leaned against the bedroom door frame watching as Kristine slept. She was still wearing his shirt, but the sleeves had ridden up on her arms and the scars were clearly visible. He remembered her telling him that she had been hospitalized as a teenager, but she was vague about the details. He wondered if she'd been cutting herself then, too.

The shades were drawn and when he closed the door behind him, the room was almost dark. After a moment of hesitation, he climbed back into bed. He knew Kristine had her own problems, but he needed just a few minutes of comfort. Lying on his side, he carefully rearranged the blanket around her and watched as she snuggled into it. He didn't understand how just being close to her was so reassuring, though he often had a similar feeling around his brother.

"Hey," Kristine said quietly a few minutes later.

Dean gently pushed some hair away from her face. "Did I wake you?"

"No. What time is it?"

"Around one."

"It's late," she maneuvered into his arms. "You smell like coffee."

"I was up for a little while."

"Have you talked to Sam?"

Dean stiffened and Kristine opened her eyes to look at him.

"What's wrong?"

"He was at the apartment."

She lifted herself up on one elbow and looked at his face. She'd seen him in a lot of different situations, but she'd never seen him look so tense.

"Is he all right?"

"He will be."

"What about you?"

Dean closed his eyes. "I'm fine."

Kristine knew he wasn't _fine_. Dean hadn't been anything but surviving for a long time. She also knew that, despite what he would admit to, Sam was his anchor and his strength.

She laid a hand on his chest. "Dean."

He didn't respond.

"Every once in a while, you need to let someone take the burden off your shoulders," she whispered as she caressed him.

"You have enough going on."

Kristine felt a momentary pang of something she couldn't quite identify, maybe it was guilt, but she refused to dwell on it. "You always take on so much and you don't let anyone help."

"You sound like Sam."

"Great minds," she joked. "Look, you need to start listening to us or one day you're going to collapse under the weight. Dean, you're an amazing person, but you aren't invincible. I'm not talking about being able to handle physical pain; I've never met anyone with a higher pain threshold than you. I'm talking about emotional pain. You don't deal with that; you don't –"

Dean grabbed her wrist and she tried not to wince. The bruises from the night before were bright and angry on her skin. He let her go and she sat cross-legged next to him, understanding he couldn't be touched right now.

"Everything just seems to be spiraling out of control," he said unhappily.

It had taken him so long to say anything that Kristine started to think he was done with the conversation already. Her own darkness having receded temporarily, she felt the need to reach out to him as he turned his back on her, but he started to speak again before she could react.

"My dad is gone and he left me with having to save my brother from something I don't even understand. If I can't save him, I'll have to kill him. How am I supposed to do that? I've looked out for him almost every day since he was born and now I might have to kill him?" Dean hesitated. "But I'd have to find a way to do it if it was the only way to save him; to keep him from being – from something he isn't."

Dean seemed to almost literally shake off the thought, but he continued speaking. "And I don't know who we can trust anymore – we met these people that I thought were friends, but one of them might have double-crossed us and given information to someone who wants to kill Sam because he might turn into a monster. For the first time in my life I just want to run away and hide, but Sam," Dean almost laughed. "Sam wants to face this thing, whatever it is, head on."

He was almost in the fetal position when she heard his voice again, "I miss my dad. It's my fault he's gone and I just miss him so much. I almost made a deal with a demon to bring him back; did I tell you that? God, it would have been so easy. It said he was suffering; he gave his life for mine and he's in some kind of hell because of me."

Kristine couldn't let him keep thinking that John's actions were his fault. She tentatively laid a hand on his shoulder and when he didn't pull away, she moved closer. "John loved you. He talked big about how nothing came before killing the demon, but I know he didn't mean that. He thought he was expendable, but never you or Sam."

"It should have been me. He made a deal with the thing that killed my mom, but it was my time to die. There was a reaper there for me. It wasn't his time. It was mine."

"Dean, I can't speak for your father other than I know he loved you and Sam very much. He would have done anything he could to save you and he knew that Sam was going to need protection. Who would be better at that than you? He and Sam couldn't have survived together without you."

Dean didn't react.

"You were the glue that held your family together, Dean."

"No –"

Kristine was shocked to hear tears in his voice. She knew that no matter how stoic Dean appeared he felt things very deeply, but he shoved those feelings deep under the surface and he didn't cry easily.

"You took care of your dad after the hunts," she said, pretending she didn't know he was crying. "And you took care of Sam when your dad was gone. You got between them to stop their fights. I wish you could see yourself the way the rest of us do. You're a good man, Dean. You're a good brother and you were a good son. You spend your life helping other people and you never give a moment's thought to what you need."

Dean ignored her as if she hadn't spoken. He was clearly lost in his own thoughts and she wasn't even sure he had heard her.

"And now Sam…"

"What about Sam?" she asked quietly.

"He left."

"You're meeting him in a few days."

"He didn't want me to be there – he doesn't need me."

Dean got out of bed without warning and walked across the room. He leaned against the window frame, looking outside though he probably saw nothing.

"He didn't want me to be there with him when he went to Jessica's grave or to the apartment –"

"Dean, you're being ridiculous." Normally she wouldn't be so bold, but Dean didn't respond to subtly and she wasn't capable of being delicate at the moment. "If he didn't need you, why did he call you from both places?"

She saw Dean flinch. The night before, when neither of them could sleep, Dean told her about Sam's call from the cemetery parking lot as well as the one from the bedroom he and Jessica had shared. He didn't elaborate on the details, but knowing them both the way she did, Kristine could imagine how the conversations would have gone.

"I offered to take care of Madison so he wouldn't have her blood in his hands, but he wouldn't let me." Dean's voice was only a whisper now and Kristine had to struggle to hear him. "He won't let me take care of him anymore, but I'm supposed to keep him safe. I don't know how to do that."

"Maybe he needs you to take care of him in a different way than before," Kristine ventured carefully. "He's 23 years old, Dean. He's not a child. He doesn't need you to fight his battles; he needs you to stand beside him while he fights them."

Dean didn't say anything for a long time and it almost physically hurt Kristine to watch him. She could see the tension building in his shoulders as twenty-seven years of pain rushed to the surface. She wished she was in a better place herself so that she could help him, but hoped that just her physical presence would give him some kind of strength.

"It hurts, Kristine."

"What hurts?"

"Everything, And I don't know what to do to make it stop."

He surprised her by turning around. Just before the tears began to fall down his cheeks, he looked so much like a scared little boy that it made Kristine hurt even more for him. The look in his eyes made her own sting and she briefly wondered if his pain was somehow helping her to heal. She pushed the thought aside, determined to concentrate on Dean.

"I don't know what to do any more," he whispered and slid to the floor. He brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his hands. "I feel so lost."

Kristine moved forward slowly and sat in front of him, cautiously laying a hand on his arm. He retreated further into himself, but Kristine would not be deterred. He needed physical contact, something to anchor him.

"Listen to me," she said quietly. "Dean?"

She gently touched his hair when he didn't respond. "You don't always have to be the one in charge. You don't always have to have all the answers. Sam wants to help. He still needs you, Dean, but he doesn't need you to fight the bullies for him. He needs you by his side."

He still didn't respond, but Kristine knew he had heard her. She moved toward him and pulled him closer to her. The tears were coming slowly, but when he felt secure in her arms, Dean began to tremble and the tears turned to sobs. She knew he didn't need words right now; he needed time to absorb what she already said. She held him, caressing his arm and waited until he was ready.

Eventually, he pulled away and wiped his face roughly. "I'm sorry."

Kristine said nothing; just pulled him closer again and kissed him. She felt him respond, but he immediately closed himself off.

"I can't hurt you," he looked at her. "Not now."

She shook her head. "Shhh."

Dean hesitated only a moment, then put his arms around Kristine and kissed her with sudden passion.

It was the complete opposite of their previous encounter and as they lay together afterward, he couldn't imagine anything more serene and perfect. He knew the real world would intrude soon enough, but for now, he felt utter contentment.

Kristine could tell when Dean fell asleep and, not wanting to wake him, she stayed still. His head rested against her shoulder and she could feel the warmth of this even breathing. When he rolled away from her later, she quietly slipped out of bed and watched him for a few minutes. Satisfied that he would continue sleeping, Kristine made her way to the bathroom to take a shower. The water was hotter than it needed to be and her skin was raw and red when she toweled off.

After dressing in loose jeans and an oversized sweater, Kristine went downstairs. She was hungry, but knew there wasn't much of anything in the kitchen, so she settled for a large mug of coffee. She went out to the deck, but left the French doors open so she could hear Dean if he called for her. The temperature was still fairly cold even though it was getting late in the day, but she didn't notice as she let herself drift away in thought.

_TBC _


	4. Chapter 4

**Let it Go **

**Chapter 4 **

**Disclaimer**: See chapter 1

**A/N: **One more chapter after this one... One of my friends who has been reading this one as I was writing it called it a wall-to-wall angst-fest. That's probably true, LOL. It's not an easy thing to fight inner demons and there are a lot of them between Kristine and the Winchesters. Thanks to everyone who has read to this point and to those who have taken the time to review.

oooOOOooo

Fear is a habit; so is self-pity, defeat, anxiety, despair, hopelessness and resignation. You can eliminate all of these negative habits with two simple resolves: I can!! and I will – Anonymous

oooOOOooo

When Dean woke up, he knew he was alone in the king-sized bed. He glanced at his watch and was surprised to find it was nearly 5:30. He wanted to make sure Kristine was all right, but at the same time, he wasn't ready to see her. Intellectually he knew she wouldn't judge him, but he had never laid out his heart like he did earlier to anyone other than Sam. He needed time to think and he wanted to talk to his brother.

After coming back from the bathroom, Dean looked for his cell phone. At first he thought he'd left it downstairs, but was relieved to find it charging on the dresser. He didn't remember plugging it in and assumed Kristine had done it for him. He sat on the side of the bed and dialed his brother's number. It wasn't so much that he wanted to talk to Sam, but he really needed to hear his voice. He would have been happy with voice mail, but after a few rings, he answered.

"Hey, Dean."

Dean could hear voices in the background and his brother sounded like he was having a good time. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Of course not; hold on a second."

He waited and a moment later the background noise was gone.

"I'm still at the pizza place," he heard Sam say. "How are things there?"

Dean wanted to lie. He wanted to tell Sam that everything was all right, but he couldn't make his mouth form the words. In fact, it was hard to say anything at all.

"Dean? Are you still there?"

His brother's voice sounded so far away. Dean didn't want him to think the signal had been lost, but all he could manage to do was clear his throat. He wished he'd never made the call.

"Dean?"

"I'm here," he forced himself to say. "Look, I'll let you get back to your party –"

"Hey, wait," Sam said quickly. "Is something wrong?"

"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called; I --"

"Don't hang up! Tell me what's going on."

The last thing Dean wanted was for Sam to worry about him, but he was having trouble forming coherent thoughts, let alone complete sentences. He should have waited to call, but he just needed Sam so much right now. It never occurred to him how much of his strength actually came from the unconditional love he got from his brother.

"Are you still at Kristine's?"

"Yeah."

"Did you guys have a fight or something?"

"No. Look, Sam, I don't really want to get into it. I don't know why I called; don't worry, okay?"

"Dean, hey, come on. What happened?" Sam's voice was gentle.

He sighed and rested his head in his free hand. "We had a really intense conversation and I told her – well, I told her a lot of things I kind of wish I hadn't."

"Oh," Sam hesitated. "What things?"

Dean was definitely not in the mood to recap what he'd said to Kristine. Saying those things once was more than enough. Sam continued, as if he'd read his brother's thoughts.

"It doesn't matter. She cares about you, man. And since she already knows about what you do, I doubt you scared her off."

"Yeah," Dean agreed quietly.

"How long ago was this conversation?"

"A couple hours. I fell asleep –"

"Go find her, Dean."

"So things are okay there?"

"Yeah. Thanks for earlier."

"What are brothers for?"

"Exactly," Sam agreed. "Even younger brothers."

"I know," Dean said, barely above a whisper.

"Call me later, okay?"

"Yeah, I will."

Dean still hesitated before going downstairs, but his curiosity was piqued when he realized he could smell something cooking. He was suddenly famished.

When he found Kristine, she was in the kitchen pulling plates and other dishes from the cabinets.

"Are you cooking?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah, right. Like I had food here." She handed him the dishes and motioned toward the small table across the room. "I called Rachel at the inn and asked her to bring something over."

The bed and breakfast was another of the Ryan family holdings. Kristine wasn't involved in the day-to-day operations, but she had known the manager practically since birth. Rachel was the motherly type and always jumped at any opportunity to help Kristine.

"We have lasagna, garlic bread, salad." Kristine paused. "She even brought dessert. The woman is amazing."

"Did she leave anything for the guests to eat?" Dean joked.

Kristine laughed. "I hope so. Are you hungry?"

"Starving. I don't know the last time I ate."

"I'm just heating up the lasagna. It won't take long."

They set out the meal in a comfortable silence, then settled close together to eat. Kristine had selected some of Dean's favorite music for dinner entertainment and the CDs played quietly in the background. Neither wanted to bring up the intense conversation from earlier in the day, instead they talked about movies and other light topics. Dean mentioned his phone call to Sam, but left out the details.

After their meal, they cleaned up and got comfortable on the couch to watch a movie. Things seemed almost normal – Kristine wasn't suffering from a dark depression and Dean didn't have to worry about maybe having to kill his brother – they both let themselves enjoy a few hours of contentment.

Dean talked to Sam again later that night and was glad to hear his brother in such a good mood. He was also relieved when Sam didn't ask about his earlier call. Dean knew he had some decisions to make and things to figure out, but everything had been so calm for the last few hours that he allowed himself the rare luxury of not thinking about what was going to happen next. It seemed that he was always trying to strategize, to make sure all the bases were covered. For once, though, he just wanted to enjoy being free of responsibility and even went to bed with a smile on his face.

All of that was shattered when he woke up the next morning.

Kristine wasn't in bed next to him when he woke up. She wasn't in the kitchen setting out a meal brought to them by a well-meaning friend. He checked the rest of the rooms downstairs and, not finding her, he went back upstairs. He called her name, but got no response. Her car was still out back and his was in the driveway.

Thinking she might have gone to the main house, Dean finished dressing and headed out to the dirt road that led through the estate. He'd gone about halfway when he remembered the pond. Kristine liked to sit at the edge of the water and he felt that was where she must have gone. When he first saw her, he thought she looked peaceful, but when he got closer his heart froze.

She was sitting on a large, flat rock near the surface of the water. He legs were folded under her; she was staring straight ahead and there were fresh tears on her face.

"Kristine?" He approached her carefully, trying not to startle her.

"Hey."

"What are you doing out here?"

"Thinking."

He sat next to her on the rock. "Did you do anything to yourself?"

She didn't answer and when Dean glanced around, he saw that she had a lighter in one of her hands. She didn't fight when he took it from her.

"Kristine?"

"I called Travis earlier."

"Travis?"

"He's my supervisor at the clinic. I told him what was going on and asked him to help me find a place – I need help, Dean."

He cautiously put his arm around her and she leaned against him.

"What did Travis say?" Dean asked in a whisper.

"I told him I didn't want to go anywhere near here and he told me about a program he's familiar with in Colorado. He's going to call the director this morning and see if there's an opening for me." She continued a moment later. "I was in and out of hospitals when I was a teenager and I hated it. You'd think that would be enough to straighten me out."

"Don't do that. Don't berate yourself that way."

"I hate this. I don't want to be this way."

"I know that." Dean was still worried about what she might have done with the lighter, but he saw the look in her eyes and even though he didn't have any specific experience with self-mutilation, he knew he had to be careful. He understood pain and the last thing he wanted was to somehow push Kristine away. He kissed her hair gently. "It's going to be okay."

She rested her head on his shoulder and nodded. There had been times when Sam was hurting that Dean wanted to hug him, but that wasn't something _guys_ did. Especially not guys like Dean…. But even though things were frightening with Kristine right now, he took a lot of comfort in just being able to hold her.

They sat quietly while Dean tried to figure out the best way to ask her about the lighter. Finally, he decided there was no easy way to go about it. "Why did you have the lighter?"

Kristine sighed and pulled up a sleeve of her sweatshirt revealing a nearly perfect circular burn. Dean wanted to react strongly, but instead he remained calm.

"We should get back to the house and get a dressing on that."

"I guess."

Dean stood up and gently pulled Kristine to her feet. He held her hand as they walked back to the house and she sat quietly while he took care of the burn. After putting away the supplies, he was about to suggest breakfast when the telephone started to ring. The cordless receiver was sitting on the couch where it had been left earlier and Kristine looked at the caller ID display. She locked with Dean's eyes as she answered the call. He sat on the coffee table in front of her.

"Hey, Travis."

Dean thought to give her some privacy, but she held his gaze. She picked up the pad of paper and a pen from the end table next to the couch and Dean watched as she made notes. He could only her end of the conversation and was surprised at how much better she sounded than only a few minutes ago on the path. He assumed it was an act for Travis' sake, but couldn't help but hope it was something else. Kristine assured her supervisor that she would make her own travel arrangements and that she would stay in touch.

Putting the phone and paper on the couch next to her, Kristine sighed. "There's an opening in Colorado if I can get there by Thursday. It's all set up; I just have to book a flight."

"Why don't I take you? I have to pick Sam up, anyway."

She seemed to consider her options. "Are you sure you want to be trapped with me in a car?"

"I don't want to leave you alone."

"Worried about me?" Kristine smiled sadly.

Dean leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and smiled. "A little bit."

"I don't blame you," she sighed and then sat up straight. "We'll have to get on the road pretty soon unless you want to drive like a madman. I have some calls to make; things to take care of."

"What can I do?"

"I'm starving. Would you mind going to find us some food? I can call Rachel --"

He looked uncertain.

"I'll be okay while you're gone."

Dean didn't want to leave Kristine, but he also didn't want her to think he didn't trust her. Reluctantly he agreed.

oooOOOooo

Dean got into the Impala and headed toward town. It was a short drive that didn't give him long to think and, as he sat outside of the inn, he started feeling like he was completely inadequate to deal with the situation at hand. He didn't think he was doing a good job of empathizing with Kristine and was suddenly afraid of what might happen if he did something wrong while they were on the road. As he was working himself into a complete panic, his cell phone started to ring.

"Hello?" He answered without looking at it first.

"Hey."

"Sam? What time is it there?" Dean asked looking at his own watch. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's about 7:30. I was going to ask you the same thing. Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Dean asked, afraid his brother was going to say he'd had a vision.

"I woke up a few minutes ago and had a really weird feeling."

"What do you mean?"

"It happened before, but it isn't specific. Just a feeling that something's going on with you."

Dean closed his eyes and laid his head against the back of the seat.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked again.

"Yeah. More or less."

"What does that mean?"

Dean didn't like the dread he heard in his brother's voice and he sighed. "There's a lot going on here, Sam. It's not good."

"Tell me." He said it almost like he knew what was happening and had only been waiting for Dean to admit it to him. Dean suspected that his psychic abilities were still developing, but he hoped that reading minds wouldn't be something his brother learned to do.

"Kristine is sick. She's been hurting herself and…." Dean hesitated, but a moment later everything that had happened in the last couple of days flowed out of him like a giant wave. He couldn't stop himself and barely took the time to breathe as he spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam asked gently when Dean was finally finished. "How are you handling it? Are you all right?"

"I don't know. Way too many intense conversations lately." He laughed weakly.

"So you're taking her to that place in Colorado?"

"Yeah," Dean whispered. "I can't just put her on a plane, man."

"I know. And you're not going to want to take off as soon as you get there so don't worry about getting here to pick me up."

"I'm not going to leave you stranded."

"I can take a bus; I'll meet you there."

"Are you sure?"

"It's fine, Dean. Really. Now talk to me about how you're doing."

The brothers stayed on the phone for several more minutes and when the call ended, Dean felt better. He spent a few minutes talking to Rachel when he went inside for the food and was relieved to see Kristine looking and sounding better when he got back to the cottage. He helped her with the preparations necessary for her to be gone for several weeks. She insisted on talking to Rachel and the estate staff on her own, but Dean was never too far away from her. Even when Travis stopped by later, Dean was close.

That evening they went to Asheville where they enjoyed dinner and a movie. Kristine showed him a park she liked to walk through and it was almost like a real date. They each put aside their problems for the night knowing they would be right back the next morning.

"I'm sorry about all this," Kristine said as she lay in Dean's arms that night.

"You don't have anything to apologize for."

"This isn't why you came."

"I'm glad I came, though."

"Me, too," she whispered into his chest. "So Sam's okay? You've still been talking to him, haven't you?"

"Yeah. I have a feeling he might be holding back a little, but he's already done the hard things he went there to do. He said something to me – God, I don't even know when it was. He was in the apartment and told me it had been a couple of days since I called him _Sammy._ I didn't realize it; I don't think I've called him that yet," Dean said thoughtfully. "And it bothered him. When I first saw him at Stanford, when we went looking for Dad, he wouldn't let me call him Sammy. He said that was a chubby 12-year old."

"He realized you call him Sammy because you love him."

Dean only grunted.

"So why do you think you haven't used the nickname?"

"I don't know. I don't use it consciously."

"Maybe you should; get back in the habit." She stroked his chest. "And maybe you should figure out why you stopped."

"Sam asked me if I thought it was pathetic that he needed me so much. The thing is, I always thought I needed him more than he needed me," Dean's eyes flitted around the room. He was grateful for the darkness so that Kristine couldn't really see him.

"I think the closeness you two have is beautiful. And I don't believe one needs more than the other. When Sam needs you, you're there. When you need him…. It's a wonderful partnership."

Dean nodded thoughtfully.

Rachel stopped by the next morning with a picnic basket full of food. She didn't know the extent of Kristine's problem, but she knew enough about it to understand it was serious. Providing the road food was all she could think to do. Kristine felt bad about leaving the estate, but the last of the hunters were gone and she had a back-up in case someone in trouble happened by. Feeling secure that she had done all she could, she slid into the Impala beside Dean and they headed toward Colorado.

Dean kept in touch with Sam and in between Kristine's darker moments, he could pretend they were on an innocent road trip.

It took Kristine a long time to get going on Thursday morning. Dean didn't rush her; she'd been in touch with the clinic and the counselor assigned to her case knew she was in town and made an appointment with her for that afternoon to check in.

Normally too restless to stay in bed after waking up, Dean was happy to lay with her and talk about nothing in particular. They had a leisurely breakfast together and walked around the hotel grounds. Kristine insisted on paying for the trip and wasn't interested in staying in the run-down kinds of places Dean was used to. He felt a little uncomfortable, but like with his brother, he would deny Kristine nothing.

"I guess this is it," Kristine said as Dean parked in front of the clinic.

They knew that Dean would be allowed to stay for the in-take interview, but once that was over he would have to leave. He could come for a visit on Friday, but then Kristine would only be allowed scheduled phone calls for a few weeks.

"How are you doing?" Dean asked.

"I've been through this before. I'm okay." She turned to take a complete look at him. He was doing a good job of hiding it, but she could tell he was scared. "What are you going to do tonight?"

"Kris –"

"I need to know you're going to be all right until Sam gets here."

"I will be."

Kristine smiled at him and touched his cheek. "Just remember that you're not invincible, okay? Let your brother help you; let him take some of the weight off your shoulders."

Dean could only nod.

The in-take interview and facility tour took almost two hours, but it was still not enough time for Dean. He didn't want to leave Kristine in this place, even though it came highly recommended and he could sense it was a quality facility. It was hard enough to leave her under normal circumstances and walking away as she was taken to her room was one of the hardest things Dean had ever done.

As he approached the exit, he could feel his chest constrict and he was cold. The door was heavy as he pushed it open and the Impala, waiting for him across the parking lot, seemed to be a hundred miles away. The bright sunshine and crisp, cool air did nothing to brighten Dean's mood and he drove out of the parking with his jaw set. He was alone and no one could see him, but no matter how despondent he felt, he wouldn't allow himself to cry.

He headed for the hotel, but couldn't force the car into the parking lot. He didn't want to go back there without Kristine. It wasn't his kind of place and the room wouldn't feel the same without her there. He drove around for a while and found himself at a bar in what looked like a fairly rough part of town. He didn't care; he could take care of himself if it came to that.

It was just like every other seedy bar he'd ever been in and, feeling right at home, Dean sat at the bar and ordered a beer. Since it was still fairly early, he almost had the place to himself. It wouldn't have mattered if it was packed because Dean wouldn't have noticed. He ordered a second beer, knowing he couldn't get drunk. He was too far from the hotel to drive and he didn't have Sam to come for him. He had the same thought when he ordered the third beer and would have asked for a fourth, but was interrupted by his cell phone.

He wasn't surprised to see Sam's name on the screen. He thought about not answering it, but didn't want him to worry. Besides, he could really use his brother right now.

"Hey," he answered quietly.

"Hey," Sam matched his tone. "Did you get Kristine settled in okay?"

"As best as I could. They let me stay for a while; gave us a tour of the place."

"Is it nice?"

"It's a hospital, Sam." Dean sighed to himself. "It's okay, I guess."

"How's she doing?"

"She seemed good. I mean, not happy about needing to be there, but ready to get help." Dean sighed. "And it's not the first time she's been hospitalized. At least this time it was voluntary."

"This has happened before?"

"When she was a kid. She had a lot of problems dealing with her sister's death. She told me she used to cut herself – she was okay for a long time, but she always has trouble around the anniversary and this year, with Patrick…."

"God, Dean. I had no idea. So how are you doing? Where are you?"

Dean didn't answer.

"Are you drinking?"

"I'm fine, Sam."

"Yeah, okay, but if you're in a bar –"

"I'm in a bar."

"How much have you had?" Dean heard the concern in his brother's voice.

"A few."

"Dean –"

"Don't. Please, just don't," Dean sighed. "I'll be okay."

"How are you going to get back to your room? How far away are you?"

"Look, I'll get back, okay?"

"No, Dean. It's not okay. I'm worried about you. I don't want you wandering around Denver after you've had too much to drink. Please, just go back to your room. If you feel like drinking, buy a six pack on your way, but please…."

"Sam," Dean whispered.

"Dude, I'm right here. You just have to talk to me."

"Hold on, okay? Don't hang up."

"I won't."

Dean tossed some money on the bar and walked out with a nod to the bartender. He carried the phone at his side, gripping it like a lifeline, then slipped behind the wheel of his car.

"Sam?"

"I'm here. What did you do?"

"I'm in the Impala."

"How much have you had to drink, Dean?"

"Three beers."

"Have you eaten?"

"I'm not drunk, Sam."

"Promise?"

"What are you? Six?"

"Most six year olds don't have to make sure their brothers get home from a bar. Now, promise me."

"I don't like it when you make me promise things."

"Dean. Please."

"Yeah, okay. I promise that I'm not too drunk to drive."

"Call me when you get to the hotel?"

Dean didn't say anything. He didn't want to end the call; he needed some kind of contact with his brother.

"Dean?"

"Don't hang up."

"What?"

"Look, it's been a hell of a few days and I'm tired. I don't have the energy to pretend; not with you. So just stay on the phone while I drive to the hotel, okay? You don't have to say anything, but, well…."

"Sure, Dean. I won't hang up."

Dean could tell that Sam was worried, but he couldn't help it. He drove to the hotel with the cell phone on the seat beside him. He glanced at it often while navigating the streets and once he was parked, Dean quickly grabbed it. "I'm here."

"Your room?"

"No, the parking lot. Kristine didn't want to stay in the dumps you and I normally do. It's not a four-star place, but it's nice. I don't want to go to the room, man."

"Yeah, I bet."

"She isn't there and this isn't my kind of place."

"Dean, it's just a room."

"I guess."

"Come on, let's go. Open the car door and step out. Go to your room and get some sleep."

While Dean walked to front entrance and took the elevator to the room, Sam told him about the pizza party he'd been to with his friends. He talked about a book store he'd found in town and, as Dean sat on the side of the bed, Sam told him about other details of his day. He knew it didn't matter what he said; Dean wasn't listening anyway. He just needed to hear Sam's voice and he understood that. He'd called his brother from the cemetery and from the apartment because he'd needed to hear his voice. There weren't any magic words to make things better for him, and Sam knew the same was true for Dean. It was sometimes just enough to know the other one was there.

"So you settled for the night?"

"Yeah," Dean said. He was lying on top of the comforter, shoes and coat still on.

"Look, I won't hang up if you're not ready."

"No, I'm okay. Go hang out with your friends."

"I'll keep my cell handy."

"I'm okay. Really."

"I know. But just in case –"

"Thanks, man."

After another moment, they ended their call. Sam slipped his phone into his pocket, disappointed that his brother still hadn't used his nickname.

_TBC _


	5. Chapter 5

**Let it Go **

**Chapter 5 **

**Disclaimer**: See chapter 1

**A/N:** Well, as promised, this is the last chapter. I appreciate everyone who took the time out of their day to read and a special thanks to those who reviewed. This story has been in the works for quite a while and it's nice to have it out there... it was just nice to get it out of my system! Thanks again to Susan and Kelli for all their help.

oooOOOooo

Never let go of hope. One day you will see that it all has finally come together. What you have always wished for has finally come to be. You will look back and laugh at what has passed and you will ask yourself... How did I get through all of that? – Anonymous

oooOOOooo

It was a long night for Dean. He didn't bother to undress and it took hours for him to fall into a fitful sleep. He had a lot of dreams; images of Kristine mixed with those of Sam and his father. None of it made sense and it was all very disturbing. Finally giving up just before dawn, Dean showered and got dressed. He made coffee in the room, but was too restless to sit and drink it so he left to wander around.

Before hanging up with Sam last night, they agreed to find a job as quickly as possible. They both needed something to concentrate on; something other than the demons they had been battling over the last couple of weeks. Going after something more tangible would take their minds off of everything and they would be doing something positive.

Dean bought a newspaper, but gave up trying to read it when the words all started to blur together. He hated this impossible feeling; he didn't like being so on edge with no way to relax. Finally, he went back to the hotel and decided to make use of the gym. Physical exertion was always a good way to loosen up.

He felt somewhat better after the workout and went back to the room for another shower. He still had four hours before he could visit Kristine.

oooOOOooo

Sam awoke with a start. He had no memory of a dream, but he was uneasy nonetheless. His first thought was to call Dean, but it was still early and, though he didn't think he was, Sam hoped his brother was sleeping. He didn't have many plans for the day; the graduation ceremony was that evening and there wasn't a whole lot to do until then.

He showered and dressed, then left the apartment. Rebecca and Zach were still sleeping and he had to make his way carefully around boxes to get to the door. Zach was keeping the apartment for his final year of school, but Rebecca was starting a job in St. Louis at the end of the month and had started to pack.

After getting coffee at an outdoor kiosk, Sam walked to the university campus. With most of the students gone for the summer, it was quiet. Sam remembered spending his first year in a dorm and enjoying the solitude of being one of the few to stay on campus during breaks. It had taken him a while to start feeling comfortable, but he realized now he had never really fit in.

He began feeling a little melancholy as he passed by familiar buildings, but Sam was convinced he was where he needed to be. For now anyway. He couldn't think past killing the demon; he had no idea what life would look like then. Would he and Dean even survive the final battle?

Sam realized it upset him more to think about Dean not surviving than himself and he couldn't help but wonder what would happen to his brother without him. He knew that Dean was more than capable of going on alone, but would he want to? He thought back what happened when they thought Sam had been infected with a demon virus. Dean had been ready to die with him. Too ready.

Even though Sam spent two years on his own, he couldn't picture his life without Dean. They'd been apart for the last few days, but the phone calls were frequent. Even if they hadn't both been facing tough obstacles, Sam was sure there still would have been several conversations. He wondered if he would want to go on without Dean. Would he have the strength?

He sat down on a bench, staring at nothing in particular while he finished his coffee and tried to work his way out of the funk he'd allowed himself to sink into. He looked at his watch and was surprised to find he'd been wandering for almost two hours. The vague uneasy feeling was still there, but it wasn't disturbing so he decided to ignore it for now.

Dean tried to avoid calling Sam because he wasn't sure he could control his emotions, but then remembered what Kristine had told him about letting Sam help. He'd made steps since reuniting with his brother, but Dean knew he was still very closed off. Part of it, he supposed, was self-defense. He was still hurt by Sam's sudden departure from the family, but that was in the past and he knew it was time to let it go. Dean was also still getting used to Sam being an adult. Before leaving for school, he was still a kid who needed the shelter that Dean provided.

So, feeling only a little self-conscious, Dean called his brother. It was under the guise of just checking in, but they both knew that was only a thin veil. They talked about several things, including their plan for meeting up. Dean knew he wouldn't want to stay in town after having to leave Kristine so they decided he would follow the bus route and they'd meet somewhere along the way.

Finally, it was time to go to the hospital. Dean didn't want Kristine to worry about him so he took extra care getting ready and hoped she wouldn't notice the dark circles under his eyes. He checked in at the reception desk and was led to what would have been a pleasant room had it been anywhere else. There were comfortable couches and chairs, game tables and quiet music playing in the background. He sat on one of the couches to wait for Kristine, but was restless so he paced and eventually ended up at the window.

He could see into a garden with benches and a myriad of plants. Dean didn't know the names of any of them, but he thought they were pretty. There was nothing blooming, but he assumed some of the plants would flower in the spring and summer. Kristine enjoyed reading in the garden at the estate and he hoped she would spend time in this one.

He couldn't believe how nervous he was and, when Kristine joined him a few minutes later, he could tell she felt the same way. They stood several feet apart, uncomfortable and unsure of what to say or do. But this wasn't how Dean wanted to spend their last moments together so he forced himself to reach for her hand. He could feel her shaking.

"How are you?" he asked quietly.

She shrugged, stroking his hand with her thumb. "You look tired."

"I was up early this morning."

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Did you?" he countered.

"I had an unfair advantage. Meds."

Dean nodded uncomfortably. Kristine gestured to one of the couches and they sat down. She curled up next to him and Dean slipped his arm around her shoulders. It almost felt normal.

"So I guess you'll head out when you leave here?"

"There isn't any reason to stay if I can't see you."

"You're meeting Sam?"

"He's leaving first thing in the morning and we'll meet up somewhere along the way."

"You have the call schedule?"

"Yeah, and the number is programmed into my phone." Dean pulled her close. "Don't worry; I'll call."

"My mom and Patrick would take turns calling when I was in the hospital before. And they'd always come to visit…. But they're both gone." Kristine's voice got softer as she went on.

"I'll call," Dean promised. "And the minute they say you can have visitors, I'll be here. It doesn't matter what's going on; I'll be here."

Dean felt her nod against his shoulder.

"Does anyone else know you're here? Other than Travis, I mean?"

"Rachel knows, but I didn't tell her everything."

Dean cleared his throat. He wanted to lighten the mood; he didn't have much time and didn't want to leave when things felt so dark. "So did you unpack yesterday?"

"Not really. We have a standard uniform, as you might have noticed, and all that was already in the bureau."

Dean hadn't thought about it, but it made sense that the light sweats and t-shirt that Kristine was wearing were standard issue. He didn't want to spoil the surprise, but he put one of his own shirts in her bag along with a small teddy bear he'd given her during one of his other visits.

As they got more comfortable, the conversation gradually turned lighter and both of them were in a better mood when Kristine's counselor joined them an hour later. She spoke to them for a moment, then left to give them time to say goodbye in private before taking Kristine to her first group session.

As Dean watched, he saw walls go up around Kristine and he couldn't help but wonder how many times Sam had seen the same thing in him. He knew that she wasn't doing it because of the session she was about to attend; Kristine wanted to get help so she could go back to her life. She put the walls up so it would be easier to let him go. Normally he would do the same thing, but he thought she needed to see that it was affecting him. He knew that she trusted him to keep his word about calling, but she was still afraid. When tears formed in his eyes, he didn't try to hide them.

"I'll talk to you soon," he promised as they stood up.

Kristine only nodded.

"I know you," he said. "You're strong and you'll get through this."

"I will," she agreed. "And you – you promise you'll let Sam take some of the burden off your shoulders before it kills you?"

"How about I promise that I'll try?" He smiled wanly.

She looked into his eyes. "Okay."

Dean pulled her into his arms and held her close. She hesitated for a moment, then wrapped her arms around his waist and breathed deeply. He leaned close to kiss her and when he said that he loved her, it was so soft that she felt his voice more than heard it. She looked into his eyes and he saw her defenses waver for a brief moment.

Back in control, she stepped away. "Be careful."

Dean nodded and glanced at the counselor who was now standing in the doorway. "I will. Get better, Kristine. I'll talk to you soon."

She nodded and turned to watch him walk away. The counselor nodded at him encouragingly and he walked toward the exit determined not to look back and to make it to the car before putting up his own defenses. He got into the Impala and quickly left the parking lot. He wasn't quite ready to get on the highway, but he needed to be away from the hospital.

Dean pulled into an almost deserted parking lot and killed the engine. It was still early afternoon in California and he hoped Sam hadn't left for the graduation ceremony yet. He felt he should know, but Dean couldn't remember what time it started or when Sam planned to be there. As he listened to the phone ring, he settled back in the seat and closed his eyes. He was beginning to think Sam wouldn't answer when he heard his brother's voice.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Sam was quiet, waiting for Dean.

"I just left Kristine." The words were said softly.

"How did it go?"

"It…." Dean thought about what he had been about to say. Normally, he would make something up or joke to divert Sam from the question, but he promised Kristine he would try letting Sam help him. "It was almost as hard as watching you get on the bus to head to California the first time."

Sam wasn't prepared for his brother's honesty and didn't know what to say. He'd known it was hard for Dean to let him leave, and he'd tried to talk to him about it since they reunited, but it was something else Dean stuffed away.

"There's a lot I want to talk to you about," Dean said. "Some things happened on the way to North Carolina. I still don't understand…."

"Dude, I'm right here. You can talk to me."

"I promised Kristine that I would – hell, I don't know how to do this."

Sam didn't like the desperate tone of his brother's voice and he wished they weren't so far apart. It wasn't like they never talked about things, but more often than not, they would sit quietly together and almost absorb strength from one another. There were times when words either weren't necessary or were too hard, but being together always helped.

"There's no right or wrong way; no rules." Sam was afraid that too much had happened and he wasn't sure he'd be able to help Dean over the phone, but he had to try. "You don't have to say anything right now if you don't want to."

He waited and Dean stayed quiet.

"Are you in the car?" Sam finally asked.

"What?" Dean had been lost in his own thoughts. "Yeah."

"Have you eaten today?"

"I – I don't remember. I don't think so."

"Why don't you get something to eat and then get on the road? Find a classic rock station or put in one of your Metallica tapes and head this way. It's still pretty early; you can get in a lot of miles if you want. I might be able to get a bus out of town tonight, after the graduation –"

"No. Stay with your friends. It's a big night for Rebecca and you should stay and have a good time with her. Get on the bus in the morning; we'll still probably meet up tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Dean paused. "But thanks."

"You gonna be okay tonight?"

"Sure."

"You can call –"

"I know. So when do you head out for the graduation?"

Sam took the change in topic for what it was. "A couple of hours. I'll have my phone with me."

Dean smiled to himself. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"For sure."

Sam tossed the phone onto his bed and clasped his hands behind his head. He was worried about Dean and hoped they were able to meet up the next day. He was sorely tempted to skip the graduation, but after booting up his computer and checking the bus schedule, he saw there was no point. The next bus going remotely in the right direction wasn't until the morning.

He paced in the small room and, needing something to do, packed his few belongings. Rebecca's father had taken the family out for a celebratory luncheon, but Sam declined the invitation. He wanted to give them time alone and he also wanted to make sure he was available when Dean called.

Sam was happy he had made the trip and, even though he missed his brother and called him whenever things were rough, he was glad he'd come alone. He could do anything with Dean beside him, but he needed to face the things in California by himself. He confronted his demons by going to the apartment where Jessica died and to the cemetery where she was buried and in a few hours he would be a spectator in a graduation ceremony he should have been a participant in.

But it was time to join Dean again. Not only did his brother need him, they belonged together. He knew that if they managed to destroy the yellow-eyed demon and leave the hunting life, they would always live near one another. He thought once that it was wrong for them to be so dependant on each other, but considering their life, he now knew that it made sense. There were some periphery people in their lives, but they really had no one they could depend on unilaterally except each other. There was evil to fight, Sam's destiny to deal with and, on top of all that, they were wanted by law enforcement. It made sense that they needed each other so deeply.

Sam supposed it had always been that way. They moved around a lot as they were growing up and even when they were in one town for any length of time, it was dangerous to make friends. Their father was often gone for long periods of time and didn't always leave them with Pastor Jim. But, no matter what, they always had each other.

He heard the Warrens coming in a few minutes later and went to the living room to greet them. It was nice being around them, but it hurt a little bit as well. Sam loved his brother and father, but he'd always wanted to be part of a normal family. More correctly, he'd wanted his family to be normal. Rebecca's father was proud of her while his own father forbade him to ever come home. Even though Sam now understood his father's reasons and his anger at him leaving, it didn't take away the years of pain. He was completely alone the first few months at school; there was no one he could turn to when he was afraid. He comprehended what happened, but he still hadn't managed to forgive his father for doing that to him.

Dean drove out of Denver before taking his brother's advice and getting something to eat. He'd been on the road for a couple of hours and wasn't even sure what town he was in. He still wasn't particularly hungry, but opted for scrambled eggs at a 24-hour diner. He assumed the food was good, though nothing had much taste for him lately. The coffee was strong and hot and he took a cup with him when he left.

He hadn't turned the radio on since pulling out of the hospital parking lot and before he got back on the highway he turned the knob. He didn't recognize the song that started to play, but realized it had to be a cassette that Kristine left. Not a fan of country music, Dean reached forward to eject the tape, but stopped short when he heard the lyrics. He pulled into the nearest parking lot and turned up the volume. As he listened to the words, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd left him the song intentionally.

Dean was normally able to drive for hours without a break, but he was tired. He wasn't that far from Denver when he stopped for the night. After a hot shower, he tried to watch a television program, but was too restless so he decided to walk to the bar across the street from the motel.

The small place was packed on this Friday night, but Dean managed to find a spot at the bar. He ordered a beer and settled back to take a look around. It was a standard middle of nowhere bar that reminded him a little of the Harvelle Roadhouse. There were young people as well as old milling about and the jukebox was playing some 80's ballad that Dean would have been just as happy not recognizing.

Seeing a young blonde woman smile at him from across the room, Dean remembered the encounters before reaching North Carolina. He still didn't understand why he had a problem with them, but wasn't interested in a repeat performance. Besides, he could still smell Kristine's perfume on his jacket. After finishing his beer, Dean decided to go back to the motel. The bar was too noisy and he was starting to feel a little claustrophobic.

He was unlocking the door when his phone rang.

"Hey, Sam. How was the graduation?"

"It was nice."

"Where are you now?"

"Outside; waiting for the Warrens. We're going to dinner. Are you driving?"

"No, I stopped for the night. I was looking at the map before and I figure I should be able to meet you tomorrow in Winnemucca, Nevada."

"Okay; we'll keep in touch. You doin' okay?"

"Yeah." Dean answered quietly as he closed the door behind him. "Not great, but okay."

"It'll be good to see you tomorrow, man."

Dean smiled to himself. "Yeah, I kinda miss my geekboy sidekick brooding in the passenger seat."

"Whatever, dude," Sam laughed.

Dean realized he'd missed the sound of his brother's laugh. There hadn't been much humor in their lives for the last few months.

"Look, I gotta go." Sam sounded reluctant. "I see Zach coming my way. If I don't hear from you first, I'll give you a call before I get on the bus."

"Sounds good."

"So." Rebecca said to Sam as she walked into the bus station with him the next morning.

"Yeah." He smiled at her.

"I'm so glad you came," she said and suddenly threw her arms around him.

Sam returned the hug and nodded to himself. "I am, too."

She pulled away and looked at him. "I know it had to be hard for you –"

Sam shook his head, but then looked into his friend's eyes. She was the one person who knew the truth about him who also knew Jessica and he knew he didn't have to lie in front of her. "Some of it was. I finally feel like I can put Jessica to rest though. I'll always love her, but…."

Rebecca nodded. "She'd want you to go on. She'd want you to be happy."

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "I'm not sure I even know how to be happy."

"You do," Rebecca reached up and touched his cheek. "You just need to let yourself."

Sam spent almost nine hours on the bus. He sent Dean a text message just before it pulled into the station in Winnemucca. Dean said he was at a gas station and would meet him in the parking lot. Sam wasn't too surprised at the excitement he felt knowing he'd be back with his brother in a matter of minutes.

He got off the bus and walked outside with his duffle bag hefted over his shoulder. Sam's heart warmed at the sight of Dean leaning against the driver side door of the Impala, his arms crossed over his chest. He stopped walking briefly and smiled at him; Dean only nodded. When Sam got closer, he saw an affectionate look in his brother's eyes.

Dean pushed himself from the car and met Sam a few steps away from it. He slapped Sam's arms, keeping a tight hold on them. "It's good to see you, man."

Sam dropped his duffle bag and smiled. "Yeah, you too."

They looked at each other for a moment, both grinning childishly. Sam didn't expect Dean to pull him into a bear hug, but he didn't hesitate in returning the embrace.

"I missed you, Sammy."

The younger man's breath caught when he heard the nickname and a warmth flooded over him. He realized this is what coming home must feel like.

After putting Sam's bags in the car, they walked down the street to a family restaurant. Dean's appetite was back and Sam needed a break from being on the road. The conversation was easy and even though they'd been in nearly constant contact since separating, there were still things to talk about. They kept things light; they had plenty of time for the heavy stuff later.

They both still wanted to find a job, something to get their mind off the last couple of weeks, but decided that the next day would be soon enough to start looking. Sam mentioned they were only about ten hours from the Grand Canyon National Park and Dean nodded, noncommittally.

Leaving the diner later, Sam impulsively put an arm around his brother's shoulders as they walked to the car. It wasn't something he would normally do, but Dean didn't pull away or make a derogatory comment.

When Dean started the engine, Sam heard music he immediately realized wasn't something his brother would have gotten for himself.

"What's this?" he asked, nodding toward the radio.

"Something Kristine left," Dean said nonchalantly.

"It doesn't sound like something you'd listen to."

Dean reached for the controls and rewound the song to the beginning. "It's nice."

Sam looked at his brother, surprised, but settled into the seat and listened to the song. The lyrics had a powerful affect on him and even once it was over, he found himself thinking about the words. They passed a road sign a few minutes later and Sam smiled. They were headed toward the Grand Canyon.

Let It Go

Written by Aimee Mayo/William C. Luther/Tom Douglas  
Performed by Tim McGraw

I been caught sideways out here on the crossroads  
Tryin' to buy back the pieces I lost of my soul  
It's hard when the devil won't get off your back  
It's like carryin' around the past in a hundred pound sack

Today, I'm gonna keep on walkin'  
I'm gonna hold my head up high  
Gonna leave it all behind  
Today, I'm gonna stand out in the rain  
Let it wash it all away, yeah wash it all away  
I'm gonna let it go, Oh oh, Oh yeah  
I'm gonna let it go, oh oh, Oh yeah

Skeletons and ghosts are hidin' in the shadows  
Threatening me with all the things that they know  
Choices and mistakes they all know my name  
I'm through holdin' in and holdin' on to all that pain

Today, I'm gonna keep on walkin'  
I'm gonna hold my head up high  
Got no more tears to cry  
Today, I'm gonna stand out in the rain  
Let it wash it all away, yeah wash it all away  
I'm gonna let it go, Oh oh, Oh yeah!  
I'm gonna let it go, Oh oh, Oh yeah!

And I know, I know, I know I been forgiven  
I know, I know, I know, I'm gonna start livin'

Today, I'm gonna keep on walkin'  
I'm gonna hold my head up high  
I'm Gonna leave it all behind  
Today, I'm gonna stand out in the rain  
Let it wash it all away, yeah wash it all away  
I'm gonna let it go, Oh oh, Oh yeah!  
I'm gonna let it go, Oh oh, Oh yeah!  
I'm gonna let it go, Oh oh, Oh yeah!  
Oh oh, Oh yeah!

_Fin _


End file.
